


Outlander

by LeafontheWinf2



Series: The Changeling Verse [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Celtic Mythology, Irish Mythology, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, BAMF Steve Rogers, Demons, Dragons, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Steve Rogers, Hero Twins- Mayan Mythology, Human Disaster Clint Barton, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Irish Myths, Irish Pubs, Irish Steve Rogers, M/M, Magic Clint Barton, Magical Realism, Necromancy, Romanian Bucky Barnes, Sassy Steve Rogers, Seers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tibetan Guardian Spirit, magic Steve Rogers, necromancer - Freeform, prophet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-02-07 07:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafontheWinf2/pseuds/LeafontheWinf2
Summary: The 21st century is here, and Steve Rogers is returning to a new world he can barely recognize. But even though things look different, the magic is the same and he can work with that. The world better prepare, for the child of war walks the earth once again and this time he will emerge victorious.Steve has been ready for years. Let’s see if anyone else is prepared to meet him.





	1. 12

**Author's Note:**

> As a recap to those going the series for the first time: Steve is the descended from Badb Catha, the goddess of war, Bucky is descended from Dracula. They got together in the 30’s with the help of a witch, went to war, Bucky fell, Steve crashed into the ice. 
> 
> Bucky escaped from Hydra and has been replaced by an actual demon. Steve sort of died (only half dead!) then came back in a third form. He’s returning to the US to take over the witch’s bar and get used to the 21st century.
> 
> ... Reading this very brief summary has me questioning most of my life choices. What even have I written? This was supposed to be a one shot.

There was a bar in Brooklyn that was filled with magic. It was an old place, not as old as the city itself, but older than the barrio around it. The bar had been there back when this strip of the city was filled with docks, a place for people to rest and meet with their friends after a hard day of work. It had stayed there, still steadily serving patrons when the docks were replaced with apartment buildings, a squat little corner of wood in the midst of multi story steel. 

Then new people moved into the area. Gaelic and Irish slowly faded away as their speakers moved out and away from Brooklyn. New languages added themselves to the area for the first times. Spanish was heard as Puerto Ricans moved into the area, followed shortly by Dominicans and Mexicans. Taquerias and panerias started appearing around the area even as the dock jobs dried up. The music was still as jaunty as ever in the area, but the bagpipes were slowly being replaced by new sounds of horns and accordions. 

But through it all, the bar stayed the same. 

People still wandered inside of it and were met with curling brightly painted knots on the counter tops and beams. The chairs around dark tables were ridiculously comfortable after years of people sitting in them, and the bar stools never hurt even if you spent all night on them. There was no food served here, especially after 1987 when the owner got too old to cook every night (or so she said) but she didn’t care if you brought food in as long as you bought her alcohol. 

And that was the other thing. The owner of the bar was a bruja. The people could tell just from the feel of the air about her, how it felt like it was crackling over your skin when she touched your shoulder. Severe green eyes never lost their edge, even as red hair turned silver and a proud back hunched in age. People were nervous around her, but she was part of the area as much as the bar was.

The bruja was just always there, keeping the door open for barrio kids to wander in when they needed as escape. She would ruffle their hair and help them with their homework (even if she couldn’t really read anymore due to bad eyesight) and serve them tea and store bought biscuits. And if the bruja was in a real good mode? Well, then you could get her to tell you a story about Captain America. She’d settle down in a chair and talk, gesturing at the lovingly framed pictures of Steve Rogers from before the serum and at the poster of him after. And everyone one loved it. Because she may have been a bruja, but she was one of them.

So when she just up and disappeared without a word one day last year? Yeah. They all panicked. A frantic phone tree was started up until people found out from abuela that the bruja had gone back to Ireland to help out someone in her family, and had closed the bar temporarily. She would be back, abuela promised, the bar wouldn’t stay closed forever. So they all relaxed and went back to their lives. 

A year and a day after the bruja left, a strange man moved into an apartment building in Red Hook. He was escorted there by a plain man in a suit and no one cared. 

They did care though when the next day the strange man walked to the bruja’s bar and had the key. Everyone perked up and paid attention when he started turning the bar into a pub, serving food once more with an easy smile. And of course, everyone noticed he was magic. How could they not?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Somehow this turned into Steve trying to set up a bar, but got hijacked by magic and what’s happening there. 
> 
> Also, if I’m wrong about setting up a restaurant please forgive me. I’ve never had to deal with that, everything I know has come from binge watching Chef’s Table on Netflix. Plus, I’ve got another chapter to create the pub so that will come in next week.

All in all, nothing had really changed since the last time he was in Brooklyn. It was kind of difficult to wrap his head around, because Steve was convinced that it should look remarkably different after more than sixty years had passed. But the basics were there. People were crammed into tenement buildings like sardines in a can, little shops and bodegas littered the corners, and the people still walked past each other without actually making eye contact. There will still homeless sleeping on the street, still garbage heaping in the alleys, still stray animals that would bite you rather than take the food you offered them.

It was all familiar to Steve. The city still breathed the same, still smelled the same (a little nicer, but not much), and the people were the same. People are always people, Steve had found. So there was really no reason for Shield to still be watching him. Seriously, he was the greatest tactician of the 20th century, he did not need a babysitter.

Not that Coulson agreed with him. When Steve had brought up the idea of him living by himself Coulson had nearly had a stroke. He’d gone a rather frightening shade of white before stuttering out about security concerns and cyber threats and germ warfare and it simply wasn’t safe! Steve, truly afraid he would cause a heart attack if he didn’t agree, quickly backed down and agreed to the babysitter. Which was how Steve found himself moved into an apartment building supposedly owned by a Shield agent. Steve hadn’t met the guy yet, Coulson had been the one to move him into an already furnished one bedroom apartment that was bigger than Steve’s the two bedroom apartment he had shared with Bucky. Steve had held his tongue as the key was handed over, convinced this had to be illegal, and waited until Coulson left to throw his bag into the bedroom and head back out of the apartment. 

The walk to Saoirse's bar was quick all things considered, and it was nice to get out into the fresh air after the plane and the car and the headquarters where Steve had been processed. He took his time wandering the streets, taking in the changes from the docks to a new neighborhood that was filled with its own type of magic. It was a new magic, one that tickled the back of the throat in a good way. 

That was the other thing Steve was getting used to. There was so much more magic in the air even if people walked around still blind to it. He hadn’t noticed it in Ireland because the land there was already saturated in magic. But New York had not been like that in his childhood. The steel and iron had kept the magic at bay, and now it was creeping back through the cracks and filling up the empty areas in the world. Steve had known his sacrifice had brought some magic back, but this was unexpected. This wasn’t some magic, this was the brink of a new magical awakening. 

Steve would worry about that later. For now, he turned onto the street that had once led to the docks and wandered up to the bar. The rough wood felt the same under his hand as Steve pressed his palm into the door, the brass key warm as Steve slid it into the lock. A quick turn and he was wandering into the bar. 

Dust motes hung in the air as Steve took in the familiar tables and counter and chairs. He knew this space. His fingers recognized the groove on the table from where Johnny Malone had tried to show he could juggle knives. There was the corner table where Steve would be pulled laughing onto Bucky’s lap, where they were young and in love with each other and the world. His feet could follow the familiar tred, arms feeling the phantom weight of a drinks tray as Steve came to stand helplessly in the middle of the bar.

How. How was he supposed to do this. He could not even begin contemplating where to start, how to begin setting up a functioning business and keep it running in a new age where everything was so bright and so loud. It would be hard, even harder than anything from before because back then Steve had family to rely on and now he was all alone.

But he was Catha. He was Captain America, the hand of justice and righteousness, he was war itself. Steve Rogers had not bowed to war or illness or heartbreak, he would not bow here. So he rolled up his shirt sleeves and got to work.

The first day Steve just spent tearing the bar apart, ripping up wood until the bare bones of the place were left behind. Chairs, tables, and stool stacked together to be given away to the people passing by. A bunch of college kids were delighted to get a bunch of free stuff as Steve wandered over the a Starbucks to tap into the WiFi and order whole new sets for the bar. Decent furniture for an alright price was what Steve found, mostly on sale from a couple of furniture stores but it would work for what Steve was creating. 

But before the furniture arrived, Steve got to work fixing the floors that he’d pulled up because there were seventy years worth of beer seeped into that floor. Seriously, the floor had been disgusting. So Steve went over to his next door neighbor and asked to borrow his truck before going out to pick up new wooden flooring from a hardware store deeper in the city. While there Steve also grabbed some new paint for the walls because there was only so long Steve could stare at the smoke stained walls as well before going insane. So a light grey was his best option as the workers piled the back of the truck with the wooden slats that Steve drove back home. 

The next day, he spent the entire day putting down the flooring. Going over to make sure all the wooden slats were aligned, perfectly set up before he moved on to start painting the walls. It took three coats of paint to cover up the previous paint below, and it left Steve with a headache for two days after the whole paint thing. Luckily he was able to take a break the day after that when the furniture arrived and Steve started setting it all up so the place would feel homey but still organized enough for him to deliver food without tripping and falling.

(Steve refused to think about the rooms upstairs. The thought of working on the room where he had learned how to put on lipstick, how to apply eyeshadow, the place where Saoirse had lived an entire life to box up and throw away just hurt. Eventually Steve would be able to handle that, but today wasn’t that day.)

When Steve wandered into the kitchen the next day, he just turned around and walked right back out. The floors and walls had been nasty enough. But this kitchen? It was not something Steve was prepared to ever have to tackle by himself. So he set himself up in one of the new chairs with his laptop and logged into the WiFi from the apartment building next door and started researching who could come in and fix the kitchen (Money was not a problem, not with the back pay Coulson had set up) because Steve was not touching that with a ten foot pole. 

He was just sending an email to ask for a quote when a sharp knock sounded on the door. Steve blinked, getting up to let the whoever it was in even as the door swung open to let in a tiny stooped woman with huge glasses. Her lips were pursed as she looked around the room with critical eyes, before fixing a steely gaze on Steve. A judging sniff left her before she puttered forward, waving at someone behind her to follow.

Well, make that two someone’s. Steve couldn’t keep his brows from raising in surprise as two teenager came following her in, both clearly sulking as they stood at each shoulder. There was a boy and a girl, both of them with similar eyes and nose and mouth, potentially twins? Steve could see them as being twins. And the magic crackling off of them felt like twins as well. But that was a thought for when he didn’t have company over. “May I help you ma’am?”

“No no no. No ma’am, call me abuela carina,” the old woman commanded as she waved dismissively at Steve, “You are new owner?”

Steve shrugged, “Yes, I just got this place a few weeks ago.”

The woman, abuela, nodded, “I knew the old owner. She was a good friend, and she asked me to look after the next owner of her bar. But I am old now, and I cannot look after a young man.”

“That is really not necessary…”

“So my grandchildren will help you for me,” she reached out to fondly pat the long suffering boy’s arm. “They are good workers, very smart and clever, very useful to have around a new place.”

“I don’t need them to…”

“I own apartment building next door. When work is done, please walk them over for dinner. Adios carino.” And then she turned and walked out leaving Steve with two teenagers he’d never met before. Because this was his life now. Still being managed from Saoirse even when she was in the grave. 

So now Steve was left alone with two teenagers who were standing there awkwardly, just staring blankly around the gutted remains of the restaurant. “You don't have to stay here,” Steve offered, not wanting them to feel trapped. But they just continued to stare, and Steve couldn’t keep himself from babbling. “I mean. It can’t feel super safe to be trapped in a room with some strange guy you just met…”

“How did you get the bar,” the girl demanded, her eyes going sharp as he looked over him. 

“Uh…”

“Because we knew the bruja who lived here,” the boy added, hand tangling with his sister’s, “And we were sure she would never die and would just exist here forever. So how did you get this place?”

Steve sighed. “The owner was my cousin.” 

The girl frowned at that, “But her cousin was…” the two turned their heads in synch, staring at the picture Steve had propped up on the bar, the one picture he had kept from the walls. The picture of him as Captain America and Saoirse, sitting together in the bar before he had left for the USO tour. 

The two turned back to Steve, mouths hanging open as they stared. 

Steve shrugged. “Steve Rogers, nice to meet you.”

“But you’re dead!”

“I got better.”

“Dios míos,” The boy whispered, “We’re working for Captain America. Abuela gave us to Captain America! What even is this!”

The girl shoved herself forward, hand held out as determination crossed her face. “Catarina Yucatec. This is my brother Juan, and we’re honored to be working for you Captain.”

“Just Steve. Really,” he shook her hand, a bit terrified that she was going to do something to him. Because there was something a bit darker about her than her brother. “I’m not a captain anymore. Just a guy opening a restaurant.”

Catarina nodded at that, “We can help with that. Our madre had a restaurant back in Valladolid so we know what you need to run it. What are you working on?”

“Getting someone to redo the kitchen and figure out where to get food?”

“Sorry, no. Are we just ignoring Captain America is standing in the room? When he crashed and died years ago? A slow agonized, icy death?” Juan demanded, running his hands through his hair, sending it standing up on end, “And isn’t Captain America taller than you? And more buff? Because I wrote a report on you last year and you had way more muscles back then!”

Steve smiled. It was a slow, creeping thing that had a hint of wildness and threat behind it as he studied the twins. “There’s always a price when you come back from the dead. That was how I paid mine.”

“That’s creepy,” Catarina muttered even as Juan spluttered out, “Are you a witch too!? Is that why the old witch left you her bar? There aren’t many witched here you know. There were many more of them back in Mexico.”

“I’m not a witch,” Steve chuckled, imaging how furious Saoirse would be to hear someone daring to call him a witch when he so clearly was not, “I’m just descended from War.”

Juan just stared, “That wasn’t cryptic at all.”

Steve just shrugged, “Look, if you’re working for me now then help me figure out how to fix the kitchen and get food here. Because I would like to actually make sure this is working out because if the bar closes, my cousin will haunt me.”

The twins shared a look, nodded, and then dragged Steve to the laptop. The next six hours were spent with someone googling contractors while the other two called to get quotes about the prices on how to fix kitchen. By the end of the day, they had gotten a guy to agree to start the process the next day and Steve escorted the twins next door to abuela. 

Only to be grabbed by her and forced to join in the family meal. So it was midnight when Steve finally made it back to his apartment before he collapsed into the sleep of the truthfully exhausted. 

When Steve got to the bar to let the contractors in, the twins were waiting for him at the door with bright smiles on their faces and laptops clutched in their hands. Steve sighed but still let them in while asking them to find food before he spent the day helping the contractors tear up the kitchen. By the end of the day, the whole thing had been gutted and the twins had a list they were now working on for food providers. Because Steve needed the list seeing how they had searched every farm in the city for a list of what they provided. The next day Steve helped the contractors put in the floors and the shelves while the twins apparently decided they were going organic (Steve had no idea what that meant) and ambushed him at lunch to get a list of what ingredients Steve expected to use so they could run a better search. 

(“Why’s lamb circled three times,” Catarina asked as Steve held the cabinets up for the contractor's guy to finish bolting it in. 

“Irish people eat a lot of lamb,” Steve made sure to sound out of breath from the effort not to arouse suspicion even though his heart rate was the same as ever. 

“Along potatoes and seafood apparently.”

“Stop judging my people and go figure out the food.”)

By the end of the week, Steve had a kitchen ready to go, and dining room set up to receive guests, and apparently deals made with local organic farmers to get all his ingredients. Juan had taken care of getting alcohol for the bar. He’d managed to find a handwritten note from Saoirse listing all the places that deliver beer to the bar and Steve called them to get deliveries back up and running. Another call from Catarina had PG&E turning on the power and the gas for the stove, while Juan managed to get the water taken care of. So when Steve escorted the twins back to abuela's for dinner, the bar now restaurant was ready to start going once the food deliveries arrived the next week. 

“It’s all ready then,” abuela asked even as she slid another serving of food onto Steve’s plate. 

“The logistics yeah. But there aren’t any waiters or kitchen staff yet,” Steve mumbled because the food was amazing as always so he was happy to tuck into it. “I mean, Saoirse ran it just fine, but she also lived there. Extra help would be good.”

“Juan and I will be waiters,” Catarina announced, clearly uncaring of what her brother thought of this. But all Juan wanted to know was “Will I get paid? Ow, abuela! It’s important to know!”

Steve snorted, grinning at the pair, “Yeah, you’ll both get paid to help out. The goal is to have a trained wait staff by the time school starts up for you again.”

“That gives you a month and a half,” abuela nodded, “Plenty of time. Now, who wants thirds?”

Except Steve didn’t need more food. Not right then. Not when questions had been burning in his heads for days now. “There’s more magic in the air,” Steve stated as he set his silverware aside. The twins shared nervous looks even as abuela nodded. “But everyone seems to be more…”

“Blind to it all? Sí,” abuela leaned back in her seat with a sigh, “I was a little girl when you died the first time and felt when the magic came back. We all, the few magic users left, thought it would be a reawakening. But it was not.” She shrugged at Steve’s surprised look. “There were a few miracles at the start, a few magical beings that came out of the woodwork where we'd thought there were none. But eventually people stopped seeing them.”

Steve frowned, “What do you mean?”

Abuela scoffed. “Science! We put a man on the moon and now magic cannot exist! Everything must be rational and reasonable! No more creatures or spells in the like!”

“But there’s still magic,” Catarina added, “Just look at Steve…”

“Who they say on books was made of science and reason.” Abuela leaned forward, “Tell me Captain. When you were brought back, did anyone believe you about magic?”

No, they hadn’t. The older people in Ireland had, but Shield and the younger people hadn’t. Their eyes just slid over the magic people Steve saw on the streets, just as they had when he was a boy. 

Juan looked confused, “But we know there’s magic…”

“Small pockets do. Those who saw the change do. But overall? Bah. They forgot,” abuela shook her head in disgust, “They are still blind to what we are and where we live. Especially here in America where everything should be proven with math and science.”

“So there’s less of us now?” Steve asked softly, “The communities gone?”

Abuela shook her head, “We are still here. We will always be here Steven, do not forget that. There’s just...more power going around for the same number of people. So the ones you run into will pack more of a punch.” Abuela reached out to pat Steve’s forearm, “You aren’t the only magical being running around New York chico. Make sure to remembered that.”

It felt, Steve mused, like a warning and a promise all in one. The 21st century was going to be interesting , that was for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Steve brings magic back at the end of WWII and that’s all good and there’s more magic. Then the Cold War starts, especially the space race, and everyone transitions from magic to math to get to the moon. So there’s still magic but no one pays attention, especially once a man walks on the moon. Now some places are still heavily influenced by magic (Mexico and Ireland for example) so they still believe in magic and still respond to it.
> 
> Plus, Steve being magic isn’t going to be common knowledge. I can’t see Philips allowing reports about fairies and dragons to get published, so they’re either heavily redacted or edited so the magic is gone. Steve saves 400+ men at Azzano? Clearly the serum, no magical nonsense. Bucky rips a guy’s head clean off? Adrenaline. No glowing eyes, no sir not here. Only science. 
> 
> I hope I cleared this up more, seeing how in the story is primarily from Steve’s POV and he’s got no idea what the hell is going on here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter in the series. It’s the end of the world building really, and we get into the MCU again next chapter. The heads up for the OCs is that I will be using them for different things in the future, each one has a specific purpose for the series so please be patient cause that’s mostly going to be when dealing with Infinity Wars and Endgame.

The restaurant is, without a doubt, a major success. Six months since it opened up, and Steve is ridiculously proud of what they had managed to accomplish in that period of time. He’s got a business up and running, cranking out great food and even better drinks to the people who came wandering in and the regulars already getting tables picked out. 

At first the only people who had walked in had been regulars from back when Saoirse had run the bar. They had come back from inbuilt loyalty to her and ended up falling in love with the food and the new feel of the place. Next had been the people from the barrio, amused by an Irish pub opening in a place where Spanish was spoken more often than English. These patrons had again fallen for the good, and also for Steve who had a shy smile and was clumsily trying to learn their language to speak with them and he was just precious. Tourists started stopping y because of YELP and Google Reviews and the pub would never earn a Michelin Star but it was good, solid, stick to your ribs food that brought back memories of home and comfort. And that was all Steve needed. 

He was happy in his restaurant. Pleased to see the place filled with people again, to have people working in the space and laughing in the break room. He wasn’t totally happy, not with his friends all gone and buried and Bucky lost, but Steve also no longer wished he had been left in the ice on his bad days. It was all progress, and he was content with it. 

And his employees were happy here too. Dorje seemed to delight in having total control of the kitchen, but was still kind to the other chefs under him. There was John, a tall man with dark skin and eyes who was actually the sweetest and gentlest person you would ever encounter. Oliver who was bright and loud and teased, always poking and jabbing to get a reaction. Not to mention Vika, who was five foot and looked like a stray breeze would blow her away but was actually quite terrifying in that particular Eastern European way that left the men in the kitchen in terrified awe when she threw her weight around. So really, Dorje was the best choice to keep them running smoothly there. 

Catarina and Juan waited tables in the evenings. Now that they were back in school, when there was a break from the customers they were sent to break area to work on homework and keep on top of their grades. Steve was often out working the floor, filling in so the twins could get straight A’s and maybe get a good scholarship for college like abuela wanted. Steve was happy to do so, and liked being on the floor chatting to the customers instead of being behind the kitchen doors anyway.

The other waitress was a god send Steve did not deserve. Cassandra was willowy with pale grey eyes and reddish brown hair she usually kept tied up in a ponytail. She’d wandered in five months ago when Steve was setting up the restaurant. She’s marched up to Steve and aggressively shaken his hand while he stared at him in bemusement. “I’m Cassandra. Yes, like that Cassandra except I’m clever enough to keep from angering any gods,” she announced in that heavy way all Seers had, Steve would learn, staring him down, “You’re going to need my help to keep on top of things Captain Rogers, particularly the magical aspects because I See that the best. Especially when the rest of the world needs you back. I’ll be able to keep everyone safe, don’t you worry.” And Steve had just said “Welcome aboard” and that was that. A Seer had joined them and she was incredible. Always knowing when someone would call in sick ahead of time. Telling the chefs where the best deals were. Reassuring Steve that he could be who he wanted and it wouldn’t end the world, no really Steven she had seen it now enjoy living and being a twenty something for the gods sake. 

So yeah, Steve had a successful restaurant, a full kitchen, two waiters, and a Seer. Plus an empty room upstairs he was just leaving empty because he didn’t know what to put there but knew he couldn't move in. His apartment was still decently priced even though Steve had yet to meet his landlord, and everything seemed to be working out. 

Which was probably why things started to go a bit haywire now that Steve had his feet under him. Because the magic knew he was set, so it was starting to flex its metaphysical limbs to make Steve play along again. 

The first warning sign was Cassandra at closing. She’d finished wiping down the tables, froze, and then started laughing. It was a fond laugh, one you use on cute puppies even as she gently patted Steve’s forearm. “This is going to be amazing,” she cackled, “Oh gods, you’re going to have so much fun! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Cas, what,” Steve demanded but she was already leaving the bar, laughing the whole way. He just stared after her, bemused by the whole thing before shaking his head and tossing the cleaning cloth on the laundry pile. “Right, that’s everything done for tonight,” Steve turned to the twins who had finished their homework earlier and were now drawing on each other’s arms, “You too ready to head home?”

“Yes Steve,” They chorused in the same tone you use on your parents but willingly grabbed their bags and came scampering up to stand on either side of Steve as he led them out of the restaurant and herded them back home. Abuela was waiting for the pair, dragging them into the apartment while demanding to know if they’d completed their homework. She huffed after the pair as they scampered off to bed before turning to fix him with a weary smile, “Steve, cariño, have you eaten?” 

And usually he would shrug and come in for a quick meal and spend time talking to abuela. But not tonight. Because tonight he could feel his magic stirring in his veins, once more coming back to life and telling Steve that he needed to go. Needed to leave right now and follow the drive burning under his skin. “No, sorry,” Steve managed to stammer out, already half turning to stare down the hall where he was being called to go, “It’s just...there’s something I need to do…”

Abuela was watching him, the thoughts practically visible behind her eyes as she studied him. “I see,” she murmured, voice pondering, “Well, then I guess I will see you tomorrow then.” It was not a question. So Steve didn’t feel too bad for not responding and instead just taking off down the hallway towards the entrance at a speed that wasn’t quite a walk but not a run either. 

Steve couldn’t help himself as he pushed the door open into the chill night air. Exhaust from the constant stream of cars tickled the back of his throat as Steve stood there just breathing through the feel of magic prickling under his skin. Up above, the flap of wings drew Steve’s eye away from the harsh fluorescent lights. A crow swept down from the next building, a harsh caw leaving it as it swept past Steve and down the street, blue eyes glowing in the dark. 

And Steve? Well, he couldn’t help the wild grin that spread across his face and started to run. The crow led his further into the city, Steve racing behind it going as fast as he could. The few people on the street stopped and stared at the man racing past them who was too fast to be normal, cars sliding to a stop when Steve threw himself across lanes of traffic. Heart pounding, blood pumping, Steve moved for the first time in years, for the first time since the war. There was no limits, nothing to stop him or slow him down as his legs pumped across the concrete. Steve was magic, and war, and he could feel the battle surging up towards him with each step he took further into this new century. 

The crow led him out of the brightly lit tourist areas and into the dark. The back alleys of New York where drug deals happen in plain sight and people live on the edge of lawlessness. That was where Steve chased the crow and his magic, past the prostitutes and the homeless, deeper into the grit and decay. He was led to an alleyway, one that didn’t seem particularly different than the others except for what was in it.

There were four grown men gathered together, Steve could see them easily, towering over something cowering on the ground. Their backs were to him, but the guns shined in the minimal light as they snarled and snapped at whatever was trying to get away from them. 

The crow let out a battle cry as Steve slammed into the first man with a snarl, the magic singing that he was doing the right thing. And sure, Steve was smaller and lighter than he had been in the war, but he was still strong enough to slam the man hard into the ground, to grab the back of his head and smash it into the concrete in one blow that knocked him down and out. Because Steve was still a weapon, someone that Hydra had feared deep in its bones enough to try and find a way to get rid of him forever.

Steve grabbed the gun from the man’s limp fingers and rolled back to his feet, standing above the cowering figure on the ground. The three other men were clearly trained, raising their weapons from the person to fix them on Steve but they were not super soldiers. They simply were not physically fast enough to respond as he squeezed off three shots, each one getting them right between the eyes and sending them slumping to the ground, blood pooling in the dark. 

Everyone forgets that Captain America was a weapon, trained to be the best killer out there. They see the shield and forget that he also carried a gun which he was not afraid to use because that was how war worked and he was born for war. 

Hands steady, Steve breathed, watching the bodies for a long moment. His ears were ringing with adrenaline, heart still pounding like mad, but the magic was receding. He’d done his duty to it, managed to fulfill his purpose. Another breath out, and the magic had gone back to being dormant, letting Steve lower the gun and turn to the figure curled up in fear at the end of the alley. 

It was just a kid. A bit really, not even close to being seen as a man curled up on the ground in too big clothes that were covered in dirt. Wary eyes watched Steve as the kid curled up into himself, face hollow from the very specific type of hunger that came from homelessness. (Steve still had nightmares sometimes, of being starving and blue lipped in Hooverville.) 

Kneeling down, Steve offered his hand to the kid, “Are you alright there?”

The kid glared back, terror lurking behind his eyes even as he pressed himself closer to the alley walls. “You killed those guy,” he spat out a slight accent lengthening his vowels.

Steve thought didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt for that. He never did when the magic was leading him to battle. All he could do was shrug, “They were going to hurt you, I couldn’t let them do that.” Steve let his hand swing down to rest at his side. “Do you know why those guys were after you?”

The kid was staring at the men’s corpses, watching the blood pool around their heads. “They wanted me to control something,” the kid whispered, “It was...I don’t know man, it was evil.”

Steve frowned at that, “Why did they want you to control it?”

“I don't know,” the kid whispered, the facade of rage disappearing to leave weary terror, “They wanted me to make it listen, but it killed a couple of them so I ran but I could hear them screaming when I left them and I tried to get away but they found me and you killed more of them and I don’t know what you people want from me!”

Settling back on his heels, Steve hunched his shoulder and ducked his head a bit in the effort to look smaller. Not harmless, he’d never appear harmless to the kid after what had just happened, but less threatening certainly. “I don’t want anything from you.”

The kid scoffed, “Yeah, sure.”

“No, really. You’re alive, and seem pretty alright so that’s good enough for me.” There was something a bit like desperate hope that someone wasn’t out to use him. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” The kid shook his head. “Okay. Alright. Would you be alright crashing on my couch for tonight? Then we can figure out what to do in the morning.” The kid still looked hesitant, and Steve got it. He really did. But he couldn’t leave some kid who was being hunted alone and out on the street. “Kid please, I can’t leave you out here. It’s not safe.” 

The kid stared a bit more, clearly weighing his options before he finally gave in with a nod. Steve breathes out in relief, rocking back onto his feet and waiting for the kid to scramble up next to him. Steve led the way out the alley, carefully stepping over the corpses littering the ground with the kid pressed up right against his back. He stayed close as Steve retraced his steps, walking through the narrow streets. Some of the people Steve had passed stared at him with accusing eyes, flicking their gazes from the kid on his heels and Steve’s broad form, no doubt drawing their own conclusions about what had happened. But not a one stepped forward to demand what the hell Steve was planning on doing with some homeless kid in the dark of the night. It made Steve want to scream because this at least should have changed. But it never would.

Eventually they managed to get back onto the more brightly lit streets. The ones where people were still walking to whatever nighttime attraction they were headed to as taxis blurred past. In the fluorescent street lights, the kid slipped ahead to walk by Steve’s side, eyes nervously darting back and forth as the people passed them. 

“I just realized I never got your name,” Steve mused. The kid shot another nervous look at him, making Steve sigh again. Looks like he had to be the one to cross that bridge. “I’m Steve, in case you were wondering.”

The kid’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “What? No last name?”

“Full names have power,” a soft admittance and the kid was whispering, “You’re magic too?” Steve shrugged at that, a wry smile his only answer. The kid nodded to himself, eyes falling away from Steve’s face to look back out at the people passing by them. “Marius,” the whisper was so soft Steve would have missed it if he wasn’t a super soldier. He nodded, and they walked on in silence for another half hour until they got to Steve’s apartment complex. 

Steve unlocked the door and waved the kid into the lobby. Marius followed quickly, sliding through with darting eyes that took in the shabby but well kept lobby. The door closed behind Steve with a click even as he gestured towards the stairs. “I’m on the third floor, door at the very end.” Marius scampered up the stairs, leaving Steve to follow behind at a more sedate pace. He clambered up the stairs, being careful not to put too much pressure on the third one from the top which always groaned alarmingly when Steve stepped on it, before reaching the landing. The hallway was deserted this late at night, which didn’t surprise him. It was a stupidly late time to be getting home. 

By the time he reached his door, Marius was curled up in the corner again with a manic sort of nervousness. He was practically vibrating out of his skin with nerves as Steve unlocked the door so he quickly ushered the kid inside. Marius scuttled deeper into the apartment as Steve stepped inside. He turned back from locking the closed door to see Marius standing in the center of the apartment, shifting from foot to foot as he stared around the place with wide eyes. 

People always expected either the harsh lines of modern furniture or the delicate features of vintage chairs. They thought he had either jumped straight into the 21st century or was clinging to past, no middle ground between them. And most importantly, they expected everything to match. Steve grinned, leaning against the doorway to watch the kid. “Not what you expected?” 

Because it never was. Absolutely nothing matched in his apartment, from the neon blue sectional to the two hideous arms chairs in totally separate floral patterns. Everything was off, either by color or by style, and it was all equally hideous when jammed together. Marius looked helplessly back at him, “Where did you even find this stuff?”

“Goodwill.” Steve pushed off the doorway and headed into the kitchen to get Marius some food. “It’s all really comfortable though.”

“It’s an eyesore.”

“Well, Yeah. That too.” A quick check in the fridge showed he still had some tamales abuela had made and shoved onto him last week. That would be an easy enough meal for the kid, so Steve popped them in the microwave for a minute, “Shower is just down the hall. I’ll get you towels and stuff while you’re eating.”

Marius looked away from where he was judging the mismatched plates to stare at Steve. “Is anything going to match in this place?”

“No,” the microwave dinged, and Steve pulled out the plate before setting it down on the table with a fork, “Now eat your food.” Marius threw himself onto the chair and dug in with the tamales as Steve wandered into his bedroom and started digging through his dresser to find anything for the kid to wear. In the very last drawer, he managed to unearth a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that wore the closest fit they would get tonight. 

By the time Steve had found the clothes, Marius had finished his tamales and was sitting at the table with wild eyes. He barely even moved when Steve slid the bundle of clothes over to him. “The shower is in my bedroom,” Steve offered, making ire to keep his voice soft, “How about you settle down in there for tonight? The door locks from the inside.” Because that had to feel more secure than sleeping out in the open on the couch. Marius nodded, a quick abrupt thing, and Steve quickly shuffled the kid down the hallway and into the bathroom. He made sure to grab his nightclothes and the quilt from the bed before trailing back down the hallway. 

In a matter of minutes, Steve was changed and conked out under the quilt on the couch. It was the sleep of the emotionally exhausted, a deep lasting thing that left you snoring and drooling on the pillows. It was the sleep where you just crashed anywhere and really did not care because they were just too tired to give anymore fucks. That was Steve that night, mouth open deep snores as the light slowly crept back into the sky. 

He slept through his cell phone ringing on the table, Dorje calling to figure out where the hell Steve was because he was typically already at the bar. He managed to sleep through a series of text messages from the twins freaking out because he hadn’t been at the bar when they ducked in on their way to school. Cassandra didn’t call though. Probably because she already knew what was happening. Steve missed all of that.

He did not miss the pounding on his front door. That sent Steve fumbling out of the blankets to his feet, eyes wild and crazed. The door to the bedroom opened up and Marius stuck his head out. “What’s happening,” he hissed before blinking slowly, “What are you even wearing?” 

“Get back in the room and lock the door,” Steve ordered because he did not have to justify wearing lilac in his own damn house, “I’ll come and get you when it’s safe.” Marius was clearly an intelligent kid. Because he just nodded and shut the door without any argument or fuss, leaving Steve standing there rather bemused even as the pounding on the door got louder. Steve huffed, yelling “I’m coming already!” as he stalked forward to wrench the door open and glare at whoever had woken him up. “What the hell do you want?”

“Captain,” Coulson was smiling pleasantly on the other side of the door while another man sulked behind him, “Can we come in?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll make some tea.” Steve moved slowly out of the doorway, letting them into the apartment even as he wandered into the kitchen. “You know it’s ridiculously early right?” Because Steve was physically incapable of sleeping past seven in the morning for some reason.

“It’s ten in the morning,” was the contribution from the guy Coulson had brought, who was staring at the couch in pain. 

“What, no it’s not.” Steve frowned as he put the tea kettle on the stove to boil. He turned and stared at the clock. “Huh.” Looks like it was ten.

Coulson sat down on one of the armchairs, somehow looking prim and unassuming at once. It had to be some form of magic, that was the only option Steve would accept. There was already enough magic in the air here from him and Marius, and somehow more had been added since the two walked in. “We’re here to talk about what happened last night.”

“Nothing happened last night.” Steve shrugged, leaning against the counter to watch both of the men in his apartments. He made sure position himself on the counter corner furthest from the bedroom door to keep their attention on him. “I closed the restaurant and headed home, same as every night.”

The stranger turned and fixed Steve with an incredulous stare, spluttering at him. Coulson just looked exhausted without actually changing his facial expression, “Captain. We have footage of you killing those men in an alley and abducting a minor.”

Well, footage made this whole mess more difficult then. But Steve knew how to handle this, things hadn't changed that much since he was a kid. “That wasn’t me.”

Coulson’s cheek twitched at that. “What.”

“That wasn’t me last night. I was here the whole time. I didn’t kill anyone.” Silence filled the apartment as both men attempted to stare Steve down. He made sure to just smile pleasantly back at them. The quiet was eventually broken by the kettle letting out a piercing scream as the water boiled, drawing Steve back into the kitchen as he poured the water into his teapot to steep. “How do you both take your tea?”

“Is he serious?” The stranger demanded, “Are you being serious right now? We have footage of you killing a bunch of guys and abducting a kid and you’re offering to make us tea!? Coulson, what the fuck!”

Steve was so thankful that he was facing the other way as he prepared the cups of tea because it hid his grin until it was back under control. By the time he turned back around, he had a disappointed look firmly back on his face. “I don’t appreciate people swearing in my house Coulson. Who is this guy?” 

“Clint Barton,” Coulson took the offered cup of tea, “Your landlord.”

“Oh. Good to finally meet you?” Steve handed over the remaining cup of tea to Barton.

Barton took the tea, expression screwed up like someone had hit him between the eyes with a two by four. “How are you Captain America?” Steve asked himself that question a lot. So had Peggy. And Bucky. And the Commandos. Basically, anyone who had ever met Steve wanted to know who the hell had thought making him Captain America was a good idea. 

“That’s not the issue here,” Coulson took a delicate sip of tea, “The issue here is why you killed four men and ran off with a teenager. And don’t say that you weren’t there Captain.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at that, because that was a challenge if he had ever heard one. He shut his shoulders, ready to dig in his heels (metaphorically and physically) because he was not backing down when some terrified kid was hiding out in his bedroom. There was nothing in him that allowed for that possibility, and Steve was willing to go down swinging if he had to. Coulson seemed to recognize that if his resigned expression was anything to go by. It would not be pleasant for either of them, but neither of them could afford to back down. 

The click of the bedroom door made the decision for them though. All three men turned to stare at Marius, who was standing there awkwardly in the doorway staring at the floor. He awkwardly rubbed his arms, shuffling forward until he was standing by Steve’s side in the kitchen. “Steve didn’t abduct me,” Marius whispered, refusing to look up at anyone, “He saved me.”

Steve reached out, grabbing the thin shoulder, “You don’t have to do this. I can handle it.”

“Man, you handled plenty last night and you probably shouldn’t kill your landlord,” Marius looked up and his expression froze as he stared at Steve, “Are you wearing women’s pajamas?”

“That is not what’s important here,” Barton set the tea cup down with a decisive clink, fixing them with a steely look, “What’s important is figuring out what happened last night and figuring out what to do next.” Barton’s expression collapsed in horror. “Oh god, how am I the responsible one in this room?” He fell back onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. “What is even happening right now?”

Coulson put his tea cup down, turning to Marius who was still standing next to Steve. “What exactly happened last night?”

“I was passing by the alleyway when I saw four men surrounding someone on the ground and stepped in to handle it,” Steve admitted, not expanding on why he was so far away from his apartment. 

Coulson decided to ignore that for the moment to focus on Marius. “Those four men were from a Strike team.” At their blank expressions he sighed and added on, “That’s a special team from SHIELD. Where Barton and I work.”

“Oh,” Steve didn't really know what to say in response to that, “Oops?”

“They weren’t SHIELD,” Marius spat out, rage clear on his face, “They were working for Hydra.”

And Steve’s entire world just shifted sideways at that. His ears were ringing, vision going black on the edges as he stumbled from that bombshell. Very distantly Steve was aware of Marius panicking, and of Coulson gently guiding him into one of the armchairs where he just sort of fell into himself.

He had sworn back in Italy to burn Hydra to the ground. Before magic and the triple goddess, Steve had made his oath. His great grandmother and aunts had accepted his oath, had welcomed it before Steve had burned Azzano down to save his Bucky. Destroying Hydra had been the only thing keeping him from eating his own gun after Bucky fell from the train. It had been why he boarded the plane, why he crashed it into the ice, why he died a hero. And now it turns out he hadn’t managed to destroy it? Steve half wanted to cry and the other half wanted to laugh hysterically. 

(There was a part of him that recognized this was why he hadn’t died in the ice. Because Steve had promised magic he would destroy Hydra, but he’d failed. So maybe he would get to die once Hydra had finally fallen?)

Coulson, while aware of Captain America collapsing in on himself, had other priorities. “Tell me everything.”

So Marius did. 

His name was Marius Labine, and he was from New Orleans. His father was in jail for selling drugs, his mother worked three jobs to keep her kids fed, and he had been failing every class in high school before Hydra grabbed him. He had played football which was his only chance to get out and get to college on a scholarship. He had been a normal kid growing up in the wake of Hurricane Katrina and just knew he wouldn’t manage to actually do anything with his life if football didn’t work out. Then, his brother had picked him up from practice one day to take him home. 

They’d been pulled over by the cops, Marius explained bleakly, just like everyone else in the neighborhood. And then, just like so many other young black men, his brother had been shot by the police at the traffic stop. And that was when things got strange.

“I started screaming,” Marius admitted, hands wrapped around a mug of tea as Steve pressed up against his side, Coulson and Barton both quiet and listening. “What else are you supposed to do when someone shoots your big brother in front of you? So the cops started yelling at me to get out of the car and I was so fucking scared they would kill me too and I’m just fifteen man, I didn’t want to die. So I’m freaking out and panicking then something kind of just happened.” Marius took a deep, shaky breath. “I brought my brother back to life.”

Steve pulled back a bit, mouth falling open as he struggled to say something in response to that. Barton was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to process what he’d just said. Coulson was also freaking out, but the only way Steve knew that was from the slight widening of his eyes, “What.”

“Well, I brought him back. Maybe not into life, but I reanimated his corpse,” Marius took in a shaky breath, “I ran off while he was trying to eat the police officer? I’m pretty sure he didn’t get eaten though because how else would Hydra know what happened. Anyway, I ran back home and three days later these guys with fed badges showed up and dragged me away to work for Hydra.”

Coulson opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before managing to get out, “What did they want you for?”

“There was this thing they had. Some sort of monster, that they thought I could control,” Marius hissed, clearly afraid that someone outside of the apartment would manage to hear him, “I brought back a bunch of dead rats and had the swarm the place then booked it. They are all too busy trying to kill zombie rats to take me out.” Marius took a loud sip of his tea, “There are a lot of dead rats in New York.”

 

“You fought off Hydra with zombie rats?” Steve demanded, a wide grin starting to spread across his face because he could never have imagined this level of weirdness before, “That’s amazing. This is seriously the best thing I’ve heard in the 21st century.” Because rats eat people. Steve could remember the little fuckers from the trenches in the war, the ones that bit at your flesh and ate your eyes and nose if you weren’t careful. Hydra totally deserved that fate. 

Coulson sighed, “You realize that we’ll have to investigate this before taking any further steps?”

Marius’s expression darkened, “Why would I be lying about this?”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Barton cut in, drinking his tea in determination. “It’s so if things backfire we have a paper trail to make sure you’re safe if someone comes looking.” That appeased Marius at least, seeing how he slumped back into Steve’s side with a grumpy nod. 

Coulson nodded at the comment before putting his tea down, “So now, we’re going to figure out how to keep everyone safe. Here’s the plan Captain…”

The plan was pretty simple. It involved Coulson going back to SHIELD and lying. Mostly making shit up about Steve going to check on a confrontation in an alleyway and getting a bad flashback. A lie how Steve had thought he was in the trenches of the war and tried to defend one of his soldiers against what he had thought was Hydra, which was how the team died. But of course this wouldn’t happen again because Coulson got Steve in contact with a therapist who was helping him.

The therapist was Cassandra because she always knew what to say when she lied. 

And then Coulson dragged Hill into Fury’s office and explained what had actually happened because they could be trusted. Coulson was willing to vouch for them, so Steve was alright with it happening. And they would investigate from the inside. 

Steve would keep Marius safe at the apartment. A couple of forged papers and Marius was his foster kid, leaving Steve with complete guardianship and responsibility for a teenage boy who could summon the dead. Steve, who already had a collection of magical users, was fine with this especially since he got to keep an eye on the kid. 

But Steve hadn’t expected Barton to help. He’d expected the man to go back to work, to disappear like he had since Steve moved into the building. Coulson though, had other ideas. Barton was supposed to stick with Steve and Marius to keep an eye on them. So that meant that Barton would be going to the pub with them for a while to keep an eye on things which Steve was alright not arguing against. Having someone else with actual combat training instead of just random magical powers could only help them. 

Which was how a week later, Steve found himself sitting in the pub with Clint Barton at his side as everyone tried to figure out the magical nonsense that had been happening. 

Marius was there of course, seated firmly between the twins who had taken one look at him and loudly announced he was their new best friend. Dorje and Cassandra were sitting with them because it was their shift tonight, the other cooks had the night off. Not that they were really needed, no one really came in on Wednesday nights so half staff worked. 

Cassandra hummed, looking down at the careful notes she’d been keeping on their discussion. “So we know for a fact that you can reanimate the dead, both human and animal. Is there anything else?”

“Well, he can probably talk to the dead as well,” Steve offered. “But there’s no way to really test that.”

“We can test it on a dead body,” Catarina interjected cheerfully, “See if it talks back or just tried to eat people.”

“Where would we even find a dead body?”

“I don’t know, pretty much any park in New York,” Catarina offered as Juan muttered, “We could just kill someone for science.” Barton choked at that as everyone turned to stare at Juan who was flushing at the attention. “No permantlety kill! Just, you know, stop their heart for a little while before bringing them back.”

“We’re not doing that,” Barton cut in, sounding so done with being a responsible adult, “Just….we’ll try getting Marius to summon a spirit or something instead of resorting to murder.”

“Oh yeah...that’s a good idea.”

Cassandra added it to the notes, “Right then. Marius, ghost summoning. Dorje’s been adding protective wards to the restaurant, so there’s that. Could you add them to our homes?”

“Sure.”

“And I’ve been getting clearer visions so there’s that,” she looked up at Steve, “What are you doing to hone your powers?”

Steve smiled, “Fighting people.” Because it was true. The crows had been leading him to different places to fight again and Steve had forgotten how good the rush of honorable combat was.

“Seriously?” Dorje squinted at him, “Who are you even fighting?”

Marius, who had been dragged to every single fight, let out a long suffering noise, “Yesterday he punched a homophobe, before that he got into a screaming match with an anti-vaxxer. And then there was the abortion clinic where he escorted girls to for a solid half hour, followed by him fighting some racist asshole.” Marius’s head fell forward to hit the table, “He fights everyone.”

“That’s my power really, beating the shit out of assholes,” Steve hummed, “So I’m doing good there.” He didn’t mention the knives kept under his shirt just in case things got bad. People didn’t like it when Captain America used anything but his shield, but Steve would rather actually survive a nasty fight and Badb had taught him to use them correctly. 

Barton’s voice dragged Steve’s attention back to their conversation as the agent turned to address the twins, “What about you two, what are your powers?”

Juan groaned, “We don’t know!” Catarina jumped in, “We’ve tried to figure it out and nothing happens. We can’t control the elements.” “Or talk to the dead.” “Or summon stuff.” “There’s nothing, we might not have magic.”

“You have magic,” Dorje and Steve said it together with weight, a fact that couldn’t be ignored or forgotten. So the twins just shrugged helplessly because sure they had magic, but they had no clue what to do next to get it activated or train it. Dorje turned to stare at Barton, “What about you?”

Barton sighed, “What about me?”

“Well, how do you control your magic?”

“Excuse me,” Barton spluttered, “What are you even talking about, I don’t have magic.”

“Uh, yes you do,” Steve added. Because that strange feeling he’d gotten or mew magic in the apartment? Was from Barton. Steve figure it out the next day when they met and the same magic swirled around Barton as they walked to the pub with Marius. 

“Come on, it’s not that big a deal. Most strange talents come back to magic.” Catarina reached over to pat Barton’s arm who looked horrified at the thought of having magic, “Like, I’m betting me and Juan have something stupidly mundane like knowing when to turn left as out magic powers.”

“Not everything is grand light shows and battles,” Steve quickly jumped in because Barton was just looking more spooked by the second, “I met a girl in De Moines who had magic, and all it told her was if her family was in trouble. You know, gut feeling stuff. It’s probably something minor like that, and you know it's not so scary.”

“Well alright then. Can’t hurt anything I guess,” Barton huffed out a breath, “To start with, I never miss a shot.” And that just opened the floodgates as they got Barton to talk. About the circus and being deaf, learning how to shoot bows and arrows and having a shit childhood that turned into a shittier adulthood. Coulson and some woman named Natasha, Budapest and saving the world. Fighting the Russian mafia only to own up owning a building and a hundred other insane things that just piled together and added up into a ridiculous life. 

This, Steve knew. “Trickster magic,” Steve rapped his knuckles on the table decisively, “That’s what you got.”

Cassandra frowned, “Don’t tricksters brutally murder people?”

“European tricksters yes, not American ones though. They’re just stupidly lucky and somehow always end up alright. I’ve met a couple American ones and they were always pretty nice,” Steve sent Barton a reassuring smile, “Well, that and every trickster I’ve ever met knows when people are lying to them. All in all, it’s a pretty cool set of powers.”

Barton just shrugged, “I’m down with that. It’s better than my magic just being able to know when to turn left.”

“Oi, you suck!” Catarina cried, pushing against Barton’s arm as the man tried to hide his grin, “I open up about my fears and you give me shit? Really man? Not cool!”

Dorje smiled dryly at Barton, “You’re going to fit in just fine here.” And really, that’s all that mattered at the end of the day. Barton, who turned into Clint that afternoon, had a place to go to figure out magical abilities and Steve had another person to care about. Even when Clint did stupid shit like teach the kids how to juggle knives on a slow day and Juan nearly stabbed his sister with a wild throw. 

It was a bit crazy, and broken, but it was his. And Steve loved it, every single second of madness. Some days it was even good enough that the constant pain of being without Bucky went from crippling to just a dull throbbing, which Steve was accepting as his new normal. He’d never be fully alright, but he could start to live a little.

The next year was a blur of laughter and joy. Steve spent it behind the counter of his bar, carrying trays of hot food to people who always smiled a bit happier after they were done eating. It was spent hanging out with abuela, learning how to make tamales while the kids chatted and hung out. It was helping Marius with his homework and experiments to see how far his powers went. It was babysitting Clint’s dog when he went on missions and ending up with Lucky being the mascot to the pub, hanging out with Dorje to create better menus to pull more people in. Working with Cassandra to plan out how to help manage and train powers so everyone could control their magic and feel safe and secure.

It was a good life. But even so, Steve would admit much later on he was happy when it ended for more excitement which came in the guise of Coulson and Clint coming back from New Mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a reminder of who is what:
> 
> Steve-great grandchild of a god
> 
> Juan and Catarina-some form of magic, haven’t told you what it is yet
> 
> Dorje-Tibetan guardian spirit
> 
> Clint-trickster
> 
> Cassandra- Seer
> 
> Marius- necromancer
> 
> Coulson-badass


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter and I hope you enjoy. This is one of those weird chapters that took me forever to finish because I just didn’t like it. Even now, I’m pretty meh about it but I feel like it’s a good transition in Avengers if that makes sense.

The day the god of thunder fell to earth, Steve was working late in the pub. He was scraping food off the plates to load up the dishwasher to get the last load going before they all left for the day. Or well, before he left for the day since abuela had come to collect the kids (including Marius) and taken them back to her apartment. 

It was peaceful here in the bar. Nice and quiet where Steve didn’t have to worry about people or noise or mess. In fact, if he closed his eyes he could hear the ghost of Saoirse bustling through the kitchen, could hear the echo of Bucky’s laugh from the other room…

Steve sighed and wiped his hands on the dish towel. It wasn’t good to get lost in the past, no matter how much he missed it. Still, there were things to get done and a life to live. So Steve brushed his hands on his jeans and grabbed his keys to lock up for the night so he could grab a few hours of sleep. 

Which was when, a continent away, Thor fell from the sky. And Steve, standing in Brooklyn, just knew. 

The Bifrost had a very distinct magical signature, one no other force could ever even hope of competing against. It was literally from another world, and felt alien enough that when it touched Earth all of the magical creatures shuddered and grumbled at the wrongness of it. 

But Steve wasn’t most creatures. He was Catha, he was War, he was Irish. And the feel of the Bifrost snapping through the air had Steve baring his teeth and snarling into the open air because he knew this magic! He knew the feel of the Norsemen in the air, the crack of ozone and blood from the invaders who had come to his home centuries ago. The image of burnt out homes, of looting and rape, of terror flashed behind Steve’s eyes as he stood straight and tall like the oak tree in his restaurant, lips curled back in a snarl. 

This was not a visit, his magic hissed boiling the blood in his veins. This was war. And Steve would prepare for it because his great grandmother had beat the Allfather once, so Steve would do it again. He walked past the tables littering the room to get to the main support beam of the restaurant, the one that was the main support for the building. The one Steve and Dorje and Saoirse before them both had carved full of tunes and sigils and protection spells to the point where it would take an army to knock down the building over. He wrapped his hands around the beam and pulled the roiling magic through his hands and into the beam so the whole building locked down.

The Allfather was coming for war, and Steve would meet him on the field of battle. But his workers? The kids? They weren’t soldiers, were not meant for combat, so Steve would leave them here where it was safe while he went out to rip the Allfather’s heart out with his bare hands. You could not trust the Norsemen, everyone knew this. They would lie and pillage and rape and steal and Steve would not bow to them. (He would bow to no man ever again.) So he put all of his magic out and into the air.

A normal human wouldn’t know that anything happened that night. They would sleep soundly in their beds and wake up in the mornings to go about their days without a care in the world. But the magical beings? The creatures and people living here? They perked up when the most potent magical signature in a century came suddenly pouring out of the sky moments after the fucking Biofrost came back. Everyone took note of it, even if they had no idea what it actually meant besides some old god was ready for war. 

Cassandra and Dorje felt it of course, as did the twins and Marius. Abuela even felt it, though she didn’t have any magic that Steve was aware of, but she still managed to recognize the feel of his rage in the air. They all woke up in the dark with the urge to fight, the urge to defend racing through their veins and answered the call. They left their homes and headed through empty streets to pour in the restaurant because that’s just what you did in times like these. Even though Cassandra and Dorje were wearing pajamas and Abuela had her curlers in and it was a school night. They still came rushing into the restaurant with wide eyes and magic crackling in their hands. 

“What’s wrong,” Dorje demanded as the kids went rushing to Steve’s side with wide eyes. He approached more calmly but made sure to lay his arms on the same beam, adding an extra layer of magic to the air. 

“The Asgardians,” Cassandra announced, her eyes hazy from a vision.

Steve nodded to her, “They’re back. No doubt to take what they hadn’t already stolen.”

Juan looked stunned, “So, like Thor and Odin and shit? They’re coming?”

“Yes.” 

“How do we know their invading,” Catarina asked, “Maybe their friendly?”

Marius just stared at her, “What, you think they’re here for vacation or something?”

“They could be!”

“They’re made of blood and war and chaos. They’ve invaded twice and each time only brought destruction and pain in their wake,” Steve informed the kids of what every magical community knew. The weight of a deadly history that no one dared forget, “We won’t let that happen a third time.”

“How are we supposed to stop them?” Juan asked, “Meet them at dawn in glorious combat or something?”

Steve and Cassandra traded looks because yes. That was exactly what they were planning on doing. It was why the wards were prepped and why Dorje was working right now. Juan did not look reassured, “You’re not seriously going to fight these people are you?”

“It’s the only way to make them leave,” Steve looked away from the twin’s horrified expressions, “But you won’t be fighting. You’re just kids.”

And of course the three kids had to loudly protest this because yeah, they didn’t want to fight the Asgardians but they wanted to be left behind even less. And of course Steve and Cassandra returned volley because they would not lead them to their deaths, would not watch three young lives burn out before they even reached maturity. No one would give. No one could afford to. Which of course was the movement that Abuela held up her hand to ask for silence because it was her turn to talk now, and they would listen.

“You are all ridiculous,” Abuela announced, seated primly in a chair. “Children, of course you will not go out to fight. None of you have been trained for combat and you have school tomorrow.” Because no child under watch would flunk out of school. “And you three.” Here, she turned on the adults in the room, “You won’t be going out and fighting the Asgardians either.”

Steve wanted to protest this, he really really did because he was actual war of course he should fight. But Abuela wasn’t done yet and he wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt her. So he held his tongue. 

Abuela nodded at him, “They have just arrived. Give them time to declare their intentions before going out to fight them. If they have do nothing bad, then you have not invited war yourself.”

“And if they do try something?” Dorje muttered still focused on his spells.

Abuela’s smile was cold and cruel. “Then we make them pay.”

There was really nothing Steve could argue against that without turning Abuela on him. The wards were stronger than ever, a flashing magical beacon warning the Asgardians to fucking try them, and everyone else was tired so they all clomped upstairs to sleep and recover for the next day because the world didn’t stop turning even in the face of an invasion. 

The next afternoon, in the awkward time between the lunch and dinner shift, Steve’s cellphone started ringing. Because there was no one around he took the stairs up to the second floor and left the place under the care of a sleepy Cassandra and Dorje who promised not to burn the kitchen down without him. 

Safe and sound in what had once been Saoirse’s bedroom and was now the employee break area, steve answered the phone. “Rogers speaking.”

“Captain,” Coulson greeted, “Do you have a minute for a quick consultation?”

Steve squinted at the phone. Coulson sounded nervous about something. “Sure thing. What do you need?”

“What do you know about Asgardians myth?”

Of course. Of course SHIELD was involved in whatever this was. Why couldn’t his life be easy? “I know they’re a bunch of looting fuckers who attacked my country for no gaddamn reason so there’s a five hundred long blood feud between them and my clan if that helps.”

Coulson was silent for so long that Steve started to worry that the call dropped. “So you don’t like them Cap.”

“That’s an understatement,” Steve huffed out a growl, “Which means that I’m biased according to Abuela so take it worth a grain of salt I guess.” He wasn’t biased. He was prepared. (He would never say that to Abuela’s face.)

“So you wouldn’t know why a magical hammer is embedded in the New Mexican desert and what looks like the god of thunder is trying to get it?”

“What.” That was not right. Steve pulled away to stare at the phone like it would suddenly start making sense. “Thor controls the hammer, he wouldn’t be able to loose it like that.”

“Well he did and we don’t know what to do about it.”

“Right, give me a second.” Steve turned and walked out of the room and back down the stairs to get a second opinion. He found Cassandra and Dorje exactly where he expected them, curled up on the ground watching the coffee machine work in the hopes that it would somehow make the coffee appear faster. “Hey.” They both turned to stare at him. “Any ideas why Thor would show up and be unable to lift his hammer?”

Dorje frowned, “Is that a sex joke?”

“No. It’s actually a problem according to Coulson.”

“No idea,” Cassandra pulled out her phone and started tapping away, “Let us call some people.”

“I’ll put Coulson on speaker phone then.” 

Because that was the thing about New York. It’s magical community was not the largest in the USA (that was actually in San Francisco for some weird reason) or the world (which was Prague) but it was sizable. And while the community was spread out, they were’t strangers in it. Everyone knew the basics about each other, even if they weren’t on speaking terms half the time because magical beings were territorial like that. It was a silent agreement though that they all looked out for each other and helped when they could. And Steve was Coulson’s connection to this community because Clint was part of it, but not totally in yet. Steve had belonged since he was born. 

“Mark White Tree says the united tribes have no idea,” Dorje announced as a text came through, “Looks like the Hindus might have something...nope. They’ve got nothing either.”

“Wong said he doesn’t know and he asked the Ancient One.” Cassandra squinted looking for an answer, “The Ancient One doesn’t know either. Or the Chinese spirits.”

“I could have told you that,” Dorje grumbled pointedly ignoring the muttered “Aren’t you from Tibet” from Steve, “The Polynesians have got nothing on them. Same thing with the Nigerians and the Ghanaians.”

“What about the Wakandans?” Coulson’s tinny voice came from the speaker, “They know anything?”

“Nothing,” Steve said after checking his phone, “They’re too isolated, they’re still learning about the rest of us. And the Europeans won’t know either, cause I’d know what was happening.”

“Russians?”

“They don’t care. Seriously, Nadeshka just sent me a text saying no one cares so stop bothering her,” Dorje rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got something,” Cassandra piped up, “Aaira says she knows what’s happening.” Aaira was a djinn who lived up in Manhattan making shawarma with her husband (Steve was pretty sure they were married, but he could be wrong). She was a beautiful woman if you looked past the horrific scars marring her face from where she had passed the trial of fire and water to become a djinn when her mortal body failed. “She says it’s trial. Like her’s, but instead turning you into a magic it decides who gets to wield the hammer.” Cassandra nodded at the next text that came in, “It’s apparently super common for her people to do this, that’s why she knows.”

“So whoever can yield the hammer gets to become Thor,” Steve said slowly, “Explains why the actual Thor is trying to get it back.”

“Better him than Clint. That man does not need magic space powers,” Cassandra grumbled and Coulson got really quiet again at that. So quiet that all three turned to stare at the phone before he calmly said, “I’ll keep you updated on the situation” and hung up.

Dorje just stared, “What do we do if Clint is the new Thor?”

“Throw the problem at Coulson until something gets fixed,” Steve sighed, “Looks like the situation is being handled without us, so we’re probably good to relax for a little while.”

Cassandra snorted, “Don’t sound so disappointed that we weren’t invaded man.” Steve snapped a towel at her with a grin as she cackled at him, the brat. Dorje wasn’t helping matters with his stupid smirk and things would be alright. Steve could see that now. 

The next day though he wasn’t smiling. Not when they were gathered around the tv looking at the burning remains of a town that had been caused by the Asgardians getting into some kind of a grudge match. Cassandra was pressed up against his side, eyes wide as a building collapsed from the fire as they kept their silent vigil. 

“Coulson called,” Dorje announced joint them, “Apparently the king of Asgard sent super weapon to kill Thor and this was the result.”

“Odin did this?” Steve asked, voice soft with threat.

“Loki. Coulson doesn’t know if Odin was involved in any of this.” Dorje frowned, “No one knows anything about what actually happened seeing how Thor went back to Asgard leaving us with the mess.”

“What do we do now?” Cassandra asked.

“Prepare. They’ve shown enough,” Steve turned away from the tv, “Next time they come to earth, we’ll be ready for them.” No one said anything as he turned and left the room, eyes shadowed because this was how it starts. A small attack to scope out the defenses followed by invasion. That was always the tactic the Asgardians used but this time they were prepared for it. 

But Steve had other preparations to make. So he climbed the stairs again and dialed a number he’d hoped never to need. “Director Fury,” Steve greeted as the phone was picked up, “This is Steve Rogers. I just saw the news about New Mexico.”

“I take it this isn’t social call then,” Fury sounded exhausted. 

“No. I know Coulson told you our concerns about the Asgardians.” Mainly the concern that this would lead to a new war. “And I don’t want to go against them with two different fronts to fight.”

“What are you saying Captain?”

“I’m saying I want to be brought in.”

“And I thought we agreed that you stay in the reserve in case we ever need you as the secret weapon…”

“That was before Asgard showed up and started a fight,” Steve sighed, “Next time they come, I know I’ll be taking them on and I want Hydra out of the way first so there’s no distractions.”

Fury was quiet for a while before responding. “Alright Cap. After the shit show today, that sounds like the best option we have.”

“I am a master tactician or so I’ve been told.”

“Cute. Hopefully this will be handled quickly and quietly.” There was a warning there, a reminder for what Steve was supposed to be doing. 

But Steve didn’t need a warning to win this. He had magic and a century long grudge to get through this, he wouldn’t lose. Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the Avengers movie, I promise. Also, I may have to push back to a post every other Friday for a while. We’re getting into finals week at school and I’ve just sort of given up on going home until the kids graduate and I get to stop grading. But once summer starts, I’ll be able to write more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, I’m so happy to be alive right now! My students have just graduated and I am so freaking happy right now. I literally had to drag three of them into the front office this week and keep them there so I could make them turn stuff if so I could justify the D- so they could graduate. 
> 
> Seriously, so happy it’s done and I’m going to sleep a week. On that note, please enjoy part 1 of the Avengers movie here.

Natasha Romanov was...different. In a really weird way she reminded Steve of Peggy in the whole being terrifyingly competent thing that both women had going on. Steve hadn’t been stupid enough to mention that to her because she could probably eat him alive and he preferred that not happen please and thank you. Still, she was an excellent partner to work with as Steve slowly but surely took out Hydra operatives with her expert help in the field. Because Steve’s magic identified them, and together they figured out how to respond based on the situation. Because there was a ruthless practicality in her that found the best way to remove the threat. “Accidents happen in this line of work,” she said more than once after a debriefing standing with Steve, “It’s always tragic when it happens to one of our team out there, but they knew the risks when they joined.”

Oh yeah, she was amazing at this. Steve kind of wanted to be her when he grew up and stupidly made the mistake of telling her that one night. Natasha had just smile that ghost smile of hers and broke into his apartment to paint his nails the next night, terrifying Marius enough that the poor kid accidentally brought back a couple pigeons.

And that was the other thing about Natasha. She had zero magic in her body, no trickster blood or mystical background, but still managed to work with the community without causing a fuss. Everyone in the restaurant liked her when she showed up with Steve because she was respectful and played by the rules but still held her ground. Abuela had made her specialty tamales and Dorje created a necklace to keep her safe shaped like an arrow. It was all sweet and every now and then Steve caught Natasha staring at him like she didn’t understand how he had brought all of this into her life without her noticing. On those days Steve would just and offer to do her nails because nothing was better than a good manicure between friends. 

(No one had to mention Clint’s utter adoration of her. Seriously, the man gave her a master key to his apartment building, everyone knew. But he was too much a trainwreck to ask her out and Natasha hadn’t said anything either but they were cute and Steve was running a betting pool on when they’d get together.)

They had been working together for four months when she called him. Steve was on his way to the pub, Marius joining him for the weekend rush of tourists cause of the slow approaching summer, when his phone started ringing. Steve didn’t even have a chance to ask who it was before she started barking order. “Send Marius to Abuela. I need you to come in.”

“Hi Nat, nice to hear from you too,” Steve rolled his eyes before turning to Marius who was already texting the twins to talk to Abuela. The kid was so smart. “New mission?”

“Something like that. Barton was compromised.”

“Shit.” That was really bad. Not just because Clint was his friend and they watched Dog Cops together but because this must be breaking Natasha as well. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve got a target to pick up in India. I’m fine.” Burry the feelings until the end of the mission, she’d told him once. She was an expert in that. “Fury needs all hands on deck with this one.”

“Of course. I’m guessing you’ve sent a ride to come get me?”

“Of course. See you soon Steve.”

“I’ll bring the sparkly nail polish.” Because it always helped to ground them when the mission was shit. And sure enough, just bringing it up brought out a smile in Natasha’s voice as she said “Good” before hanging up on him. Marius didn’t even look up from his phone, voice bored as he announced, “Abuela will watch me. So go save the world of something.”

And what else could Steve do but ruffle his hair and head out the door to go save the world? 

Luckily, the building was owned by Clint who was a SHIELD agent. Normally this luck just extended to having a landlord who was alright with Steve duct taping guns to the undersides of tables and chair and the back of the door. Or hiding a machete in the air vents for really bad emergencies. But on rarer days the luck went to a man who understood that sometimes you’re going to be airlifted out to a mission right then so it always had to be go time. Which was by the roof of the building also doubled as a landing pad for the quinjet that was waiting patiently for Steve on the roof. 

Steve bounded inside, the doors sliding shut as he slid easily into the open pilot seat as the jet took off. He’d left his gear at headquarters after the last mission to get repaired so Steve was expecting a detour to grab it before he was sent out into the field.

“We’ve got everything stored on the Helicarrier for you,” Coulson explained before Steve could even start talking, “It’s going to take a little while before we send you out into the field.”

“Why would it take a while?”

“Because we’re still figuring out the location,” Coulson’s face was tight with stress and worry, “You heard about Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s being mind controlled.” Coulson took a deep breath. “By Loki.”

Steve blinked. It was slow, a reptilian gesture. “Loki’s back? And you’re sending me after him.” Coulson nodded. “You know I’m going to kill him right?”

“After he gives Clint back you can do whatever you want.” And shit, this was serious if Coulson wasn’t even going to give his killing people is bad speech. “Natsha’s bringing in the guy who’ll be able to track him. Hopefully we get this wrapped up quick.”

That was Steve’s hope too. The rest of the ride was silent. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just the heavy type that fell when things were too big and you weren’t sure what to do. It was comfortable because there was someone else with you, someone who got it because they were willing to be silent with you. It was the calm and the focus before the storm because that’s what Steve was bringing. Loki would not be walking away from this one. 

When the quinjet touched down, Steve followed Coulson out and into the harsh morning light. The Helicarrier was running smoothly like always, people rushing back and forth in the desperate attempts to get the whole thing ready to disappear into the clouds. It was a well oiled machine, everything in place and running smoothly. Which meant the guy in the sweater standing nervously next to Natasha was really, really out of place here. 

“Steve,” Nat greeted, voice liquid smoke, “Decided to bring a new outfit today?”

“I was supposed to be working but you know. Needs must,” Steve turned to the man and offered his hand with a smile, “You must be Doctor Banner. Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Right. Yeah. Captain America?” Banner sounded a little weak as he asked. 

“Yep.” And Steve got it. He really did. Everyone had this image in their heads of him being this huge beefy dude who was the perfect man’s man. Someonhow who wore sharp clothes that were somehow patriotic at the same time. They were not expecting him to be wilowy with hidden strength and star berets in his hair. Or how his arms were covered in blue, green, and pink drawings in markers because he couldn’t keep tattoos due to the serum. Or the pink top with and flowing skirt, no one guessed he’d ever wear those either even though skirts were ridiculously comfortable. 

“You’re going to fight Loki in that?” Banner asked and oh, that was the problem.

“They have the suit here so I’ll change before I head out,” Steve smiled as the three of them started walking into the Helicarrier. “Coulson mentioned you’ll be tracking Loki?”

Banner’s expression was wry but Natasha cut him off before he could talk. “He’s tracking the cube.”

Steve frowned because he hadn’t heard anything about a cube. “What cube?”

“The tesseract,” Natasha said slowly like you would to a child, “The blue cube the Red Skull used?” Steve just stared. “The one SHIELD found at the bottom of the ocean? That Loki stole?” Nothing. Steve had nothing on this. “Seriously. Rogers, did you even read the briefing?”

“I got excited about fight a Norse god, alright? Besides I knew you’d tell me what’s going on,” Steve smiled slyly at her, “So Banner finds this Loki guy and I take him out?”

“You bring him back alive,” came Coulson’t tired voice, “So we can question him. Honestly Steven.”

Steve just rolled his eyes at that before going to change, Natasha on his heels as Coulson led the new guy to a different part of the Helicarrier. He could tell she wanted to give him a heads up about something, but wouldn’t until they were in the changing rooms and away from prying eyes and ears. It didn’t take long for them to get there and Steve turned to change as Natasha bruised herself securing the room. When she was ready, she’d talk to him about what was going on. 

“Be careful around Banner,” was how she decided to start the conversation apparently. “He’s much more dangerous than he appears?”

“What is he?” Because there were plenty of shapeshifters out there who looked harmless at first but could eat your face without a second thought.”

“The Hulk.”

Steve had no idea what that was. “I have no idea what that is.”

“Giant green rage monster? Broke Harlem a few years back?”

“I was probably in Ireland being held by the fairies Nat.”

“No one told you about this?”

“No one tells me anything,” Steve pointed out, pulling on his harness for the shield, “Do you think we could get this suited out for a gun or six?”

“The knives and shield are enough. Leave the guns to me.” Natasha was frowning as she leaned against the wall, “I thought I told you about Banner and the Hulk.”

“Hey, its fine if you didn’t. You’ve kept me up to date with a lot of other stuff. Besides this seems like a need to know thing and I didn’t need to know until now.” He laughed at her eye roll deftly strapping the knives on. They were beautiful, crafted in Ireland by the fae courts to welcome him home and shipped across the sea to him. More dagger like than anything else, there were enchanted to never dull and always cut true. Steve couldn’t be harmed by them and they would always return to him. The perfect gift for a member of Clan Catha. 

When he looked up from getting them attached, Natasha was frowning down as her phone with what Steve had mentally dubbed the mission face. “Fury know where we’re headed?”

“Loki’s been spotted somewhere in Germany. You good to go?” He sent her a quick nod and then they were back out of the room and moving. With each step, Steve could start to feel the magic gather. It was beginning to pool in the soles of his feet slowly creeping up his legs as they got in the quinjet. The prickle of magic had him pacing the space like an animal in a cage as the magic grew and grew inside of him.

It was a different type of magic than before. Oh, it still called for battle and Steve was sure his eyes were starting to glow blue. But this was angrier than ever before. And sure, his magic hated Hydra and everything to do with it, but this wasn’t hate. This was a deep loathing, disgust so primal that Steve could feel it in his bones. An ancient rage from the Catha, a reminder of the threat of the Norsemen and he could easily feel how it swelling inside him. 

If Steve had been trying to resist it, he would have drowned. The force of the magic would have taken him over and left nothing behind except for instincts and a shell of a man. But Steve did not resist, he was no stranger and to rage and pain. He welcomed them in, chained them to his heart, and embraced it like he had so many times before. He was war itself and nothing would stop him. Especially not Loki of Asgard. 

“Ready?” Nat called, flying low through the dirty streets. 

“Ready,” Steve hissed, mouth curled back in a feral snarl as she opened the hatch of the jet and let him jump out into the air as the battle finally begun. 

Steve hit the ground in Germany running. He really did not give a flying fuck about what Loki was saying. He didn’t care what came out of his smarmy, lying mouth because Steve was done. He had been done when the Asgardians when they first banished that Thor guy here, and he’d become even more done when the Asgardians destroyed a city on Steve’s planet. So yeah, Steve was looking forward to this a lot. 

He threw the shield with a snarl, his magic cracking past his skin as he threw himself into at Loki in its wake. The god of lies jerked back, eyes wide in surprise at the overly aggressive move but he really should have expected it. This was war now, and Steve did not play nice in wars. 

(The old men and women in the crowd flinched when Steve’s magic exploded out. They had been young adults when Steve had stormed across Europe with war in his veins, but they remembered the feel of his rage and they moved back and away because you do not forget when Catha goes to war.)

Steve threw his fist toward that stupid face, snarl turning into a savage grin as Loki fell back under the onslaught as the shield ricocheted off a light post back to Steve’s hand. The actual god was on the defensive in their match, parrying and blocking from Steve’s hands and shield. The staff spun, flashing gold and blue in the fight as he stumbled back. 

Logically, Steve shouldn’t be winning. Loki had centuries on him in combat, had been trained by the best in the actual universe. Steve, who had learned to fight from the back alleys, Bucky, sort of the army, and his family should have been hilariously outclassed. But he was pissed and wild and pushed and pushed and pushed until Loki stumbled at the steps of the museum and hit the ground with a stunned gasp.

Steve crouched down over him, shield poised to smash the trachea as he glared down over Loki. “You shouldn’t have come back to my planet,” Steve hissed, Irish brogue creeping into his voice as his eyes glowed blue. 

Loki’s surprise turned into resigned shock. “You’re Catha,” he muttered, horror starting to hit his voice at the realization that he wandered into. 

“Yes,” Steve breathed out, “And I’m going to carve out your heart and eat it…”

“Woah!” a tinny voice broke the tension. Steve and Loki’s heads jerked to the side, both staring wide eyed at the floating gold and red hovering before them, “This is not what I was expecting.” Golden hands with glowing palms raised in the air. “Let’s back off on the threats of cannibalism shall we?”

Steve glared, turning his attention back to Loki. “You’re lucky SHIELD wants you alive,” Steve snapped as he dragged Loki up off the ground and towards the quinjet, uncaring of how the god stumbled behind him. The so-called called god didn’t say anything, just stared at Steve with wide eyes like he was something Loki had never expected to see. (He was. Odin had told his sons all of the Catha were dead, gone from the world and it was obviously not true. Steve was still alive.)

“Is anyone else confused,” the metal man asked, climbing onto the quinjet behind Steve as he forced Loki into a seat and handcuffed him down, “Did I really just witness Captain America threatening to kill someone here?”

“Yes Stark, we all heard,” came Natasha’s unamused response as the doors slid shut the jet took off. 

Steve leaned back against the door, eyes hooded as he studied Iron Man for the first time. Steve had heard of Tony Stark from several people, including Natasha. He’d heard good things and bad things and couldn’t get an accurate read because of that, and this whole situation didn’t exactly tell Steve much about Stark. He could be an ally, or end up just being a distraction that kept them from doing their jobs. 

“Mr. Stark,” Steve couldn’t bring himself to smile, not with Loki here, “Thanks for coming to help.”

“Oh yeah, no problem. Just wanted to see what all the fuss is about,” the face plate slid back to reveal Stark’s face for the first time. “Can’t say that I was expecting to see Captain America.”

“I was a last minute addition to this whole thing,” Steve shrugged, a deliberate flex aimed at their prisoner, “Fury prefers to keep me away from things like this.”

“Germany?”

“Asgardians,” Steve’s grin was all teeth and he delighted in the way that Loki leaned further away from him. 

Stark’s face scrunched up, “You are way creepier than I was led to believe.”

Steve just shrugged, leaning against the wall and watching Loki with half lidded eyes. He was waiting for the guy to do something, anything to give him the excuse to rip Loki’s head off. He didn’t care that Stark looked freaked out by him, Steve had other things to worry about.

Thunder cracked outside. Loki flinched, cringing away from the walls as he hunched in on himself.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong,” Stark taunted, “Afraid of a little thunder?”

Loki scoffed, “I’m not particularly fond of what follows after.”

No. No, no way. Steve refused. There was not going to be another Asgardian here, not another one messing everything up in Steve’s world. Thor, god of thunder, could not be here messing with everything. 

He was especially not ripping the door off the back and dragging Loki out of the quinjet before flying away. Steve refused. He was done.

“Are you fucking with me,” Steve hissed, uncaring of how Stark was staring at him as he stormed over to pull on a parachute. “There’s two of them now?”

“Is he having a stroke?” Stark demanded. 

“No. He’s like this all the time,” Natasha sounded so done but Steve really didn’t care, not when Stark had just shrugged and flown out of the plane to leave them behind, “You got a plan there Cap?”

“Death by ritual combat.”

“Magical people are weird,” Natasha grumbled. Steve flipped her off, throwing himself out of the plane with her yell “We need Loki alive for questioning!” ringing in his ears as he fell through the air. It felt good to pull the chute and touch down on ground. He was headed back into battle against one of the oldest enemies his clan had. A vicious grin spread across Steve’s face as he heard a crow cawing above him, a call to battle and to arms as he raced through the trees. 

Distantly he could hear the sound of Stark and the thunder god locked in battle. The sound of metal scraping on metal guided him through the trees to where he found Stark down on the ground with Thor standing above him. 

Steve didn’t hesitate before he was racing across the forest floor to slam straight into Thor’s chest and sent the god toppling to the forest floor. Pulling out one of his knives, Steve pressed the point right against the God’s throat and hissed, “Give me one good reason why I don’t slit your throat here and now.”

“Jesus Rogers! What the fuck!”

Thor snarled under him, straining to get up even as Steve’s knife drew blood. “I have no quarrel with you mortal, I am merely here to deal with my brother.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, “Please. You’re here to get him out and help him. Well, I’m not going to let that happen.” Steve bared his teeth, “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“Nope! No killing. We’re all friends here,” Stark’s hand grabbed the back of Steve’s uniform collar and dragged him hissing and spitting off of Thor. “We are all going to get back on the quinjet and handle this problem like grownups. No killing, no stabbing, no fighting. Clear?”

“Clear,” Steve spat, still glaring daggers at Thor as he slowly got back onto his feet. 

“Right, good. Let’s head back then,” Stark sounded painfully cheerful as he herded Steve and Thor out of the forest, “We grab Loki, and sit down and talk about this whole thing like adults. Oh god. Am I the functional adult here? I’m allergic to being a functioning adult this needs to stop.”

“Excuse you, I am a fully functioning adult,” Steve snapped back, refusing to look away from Thor who was walking behind them. Steve didn’t like having the god at their backs but he also didn’t to get into a fight with Stark about it in the middle of the forest. So he did not respond to the incredulous look that Stark sent him, instead slipping free when they were in sight of Loki to stand guard over the god of chaos until Natasha came back to pick them up. 

Sitting above the prone god was a crow with blue eyes, keeping watch while Steve had been gone. Loki was watching the crow with wary eyes, clearly afraid that it will suddenly decide to fly down and peck his eyes out. (Which it could, great grandmother would love to do that but she had better restraint.) “I see the Catha childe didn’t kill you,” Loki managed to get out, voice wry. 

Thor sighed, “Loki, there are no Catha left, you know this.” Steve had to work very hard not to respond to that. It was good that Thor didn't know, that Thor couldn’t see what Steve was. It gave him more of an edge when this descended into an actual fight. So Steve would sit, he would wait, and gather his power for the upcoming war. 

Above Loki, the blue eyed crow let out a caw as the quinjet came to land on the rocks. A cry to battle that Steve was glad to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posts will probably be about every other Friday (depending on the conferences I have to go to over the summer). But my goal is to have Outlander done by August and then start on Infinity Wars and Endgame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead, and this story is still going strong. I did spend a whole month in various conferences to be a better teacher and was too exhausted to write. Summer is apparently when I decide to learn a bunch of stuff like a crazy person because that’s all I want in life.
> 
> Good news, on top of being super busy I’ve been teaching myself to bake. We’ll see if my peach pie turns out alright cause I have never tried to make one before and it is my reward tonight for finally posting something.

It had been decided somewhere on the flight back, that Steve would be kept as far away from Loki as possible. Steve was half convinced that Fury had come up with that plan but judging from the searching looks Coulson kept sending him, Steve wasn’t a hundred percent sure who was behind it. Either way, he had been sent to the conference room while Fury escorted Loki into his brand new cell.

Settling into his chair, Steve pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Cassandra to give her a heads up on the situation. She was running the bar for him and would hopefully be able to send Steve a prediction about when this whole thing would be wrapped up so he could go home.

“It seems like our guest here is going to drag this one out,” Fury slid into the seat across from Steve, “Thor, you know him best. What’s his play?”

“He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard or any known world,” Thor leaned forward, “They will win him this world for the Tesseract no doubt.”

“An alien army from outer space,” Natasha deadpanned and Steve just shrugged. Because technically the Asgardians were from space and they’d invaded before. This shouldn’t come as a surprise.

Steve turned his attention back to his phone when it buzzed. Cassandra had sent him a text, a long one it looked like. Tuning out of the conversation around him Steve began to read.

_I see fire and death and war, was what she sent him, A battle unlike any seen on these shores and you with a new breed of heroes._

_Any hints about Loki in your vision? Chaos or lies or something?_

_A pillar of ice rising above a burning city? That’s all I’ve got so far._

_Kk. Any idea on when we…_

“Sorry, but is Captain America texting?” Stark’s voice drew Steve back into the present. He blinked owlishly at everyone watching him, phone held securely in his hands. Stark just looked thrown, “I had no idea Capsicle over here even had a phone, let alone knew how to use one.”

Steve rolled his eyes before turning to Fury. “My people don’t know what Loki’s planning, but they’re ready in case of an attack.”

Fury nodded at that. Banner though leaned forward to stare Steve down, “Your people Captain Rogers?”

“Just Steve, Doctor. And yeah, my people.” Steve pocketed the phone, leaning back in his chair, “I’ve got connections on the other side.”

Natasha sent him a hint of a smile, “From your fairy friends?”

“Yeah, sure. They’ll help too.”

“Fairy friends?” Thor’s voice held a note of alarm and wasn’t that interesting. Steve hadn't expected the god to have had a run in with the fae courts before.

“Captain Rogers was held in a fae ring before appearing back in Ireland several years ago. He’s now our liaison for the supernatural,” Coulson added, voice dry. “It was quite the commotion.”

Thor leaned back with a booming laugh. “I see! Then he’s a changeling, not Catha!”

“Of course not,” butter wouldn’t melt in Steve’s mouth right then, “Only women are Catha.” Or men with a woman’s heart beat, her blood in his veins, and her breath in his lungs. You know, like Steve who is Catha please and thank you.

(“Always let them underestimate you, a stór,” Sarah had murmured in the space between the living and the dead, “Then you will always win.”)

“Changeling or not, this still doesn’t help us find the Tesseract,” Fury cut in, “Doctor Banner, do you have a lead on it?”

And clearly he did, because shortly after Stark and Banner rushed out of the room towards the lab to do...something. Coulson led Thor off, so Steve just hung out in his seat with Nat and Fury to help them figure out the next move.

“Loki came to easily,” Fury reiterated, “Agent Romanov, you think of a way you make make this guy talk?”

“I’ve thought of several ways.”

“I can always step in,” Steve offered.

Fury just looked at him. “I’d prefer our prisoner in one piece thank you. No Captain, I’ve got a much worse job for you. Babysitting the scientists over there.”

Steve honestly would have preferred being locked in a room with the Asgardians.

Still, if he’d learned anything in his two lifetimes it was that sometimes you just had to suck it up and get through it. So Steve would get through this. He’d fought in a world war. He’d lead soldiers into battles against Nazis and magic and come out victorious, he could get through a couple hours of Stark without going mad. He had Cassandra on speed dial and it didn’t look like there was much going on in the restaurant. Everything would manage to work out for the best, he knew it.

Although wandering into the science lab to see Stark tasering Banner? Steve was already hating this whole thing. “Are you seriously doing this?” Steve demanded, forcing himself further into the lab.

Stark rolled his eyes but Steve had already had a shitty day and he was not happy with this whole scenario. “Calm down Cap. Brucey-bear’s got this.”

“Him having this isn’t the point,” Steve spit out, “Doctor Banner being able to work without being assaulted is the point!” Steve turned away from Stark to face Banner. “Are you alright? Do I need to get you a new lab?”

Banner just blinked, looking stunned by the whole thing. “Um. I’m alright. Thank you though?”

Steve nodded at that before settling himself in a chair, settling as he pulled his cellphone back out.

“I’ve got to say Cap. You’re not what I was expecting. Much more murderous than dear old dad led me to believe.” Stark commented, hands moving quickly over the keys.

“Well. Howard didn’t go out in the field often. He missed quite a bit,” Steve shrugged opening Candy Crush to play a new level. He was facing off against the twins and they were currently beating him. This should give him plenty of time to catch up.

“Like the whole fighting every Asgardian thing?” Stark demanded.

“There weren’t any Asgardians in WWII,” Steve admitted, “But if they’d been there I would have been fighting them too.”

“Not a fan?”

“No Stark. Not really,” Steve put his phone away, leaning forward to look them both in the eyes, “The last time the Asgardians came here, they attacked my people’s home. They raped, they pillaged, they robbed us of our treasures. They took our greatest works and left us with nothing.” Steve snorted. “I grew up on stories of their cruelty and greed. So yeah. Not a big fan.”

“That must have been centuries ago,” Banner whispered in the still air. “You’re still mad about that?”

“We don’t forgive when the enemy spills blood. They fled before they could pay, and I will see justice done,” Steve turned his attention back to his phone, “The Irish don’t forget those who need to pay their debts. That’s why we still hate the British so much.”

Stark snorted, “You’re Captain America though. Not Captain Ireland.”

“A friend told me that I can be whoever I want to be. And Captain America was always a propaganda tool.” Steve grinned. “I’ve always been Irish at heart. What was that thing you put on Fury’s console?”

“What? Not a fan of little old me taking a look at Fury’s secret?” Stark tried to goad.

“Yeah, when the chaos god is preparing a terror attack I’d rather you focus on that,” Steve rolled his eyes. “Besides. Fury’s hiding weapons created with Tesseract energy. Not that big of a surprise.”

“How would you know?”

“Because a Seer told me about it,” Steve huffed going back to his game, tuning the scientists out. He had bigger things to worry about, namely getting in contact with the other magical communities to prepare them for an upcoming war. Most of the others were ready to go, ready to fight, and Steve would lead them into battle. That was his purpose. He could feel it curling in the pit of his stomach, getting ready to be unleashed upon the world.

But there was another magic there. Something dark and insidious curling through the air and wrapping around their minds. An ancient magic, more hideous and revolting than anything Steve had ever encountered. And he’d met some truly nasty spells and curses when serving in Europe so that was saying something.

“We got a hit,” Banner’s voice drew Steve away from his game, “We found the Tesseract.”

Steve came to stand next to them to stare at the map. The map that was showing downtown Manhattan because of course it was. Nothing could ever be easy. He opened up his group chat and sent out a quick message as the doors slid open to allow others into the lab. Fury and Natasha were there of course, looking tense as they were followed in by Thor for some reason. They looked ready for the coming war. Just like the community would be.

It was so easy to press send.

_The weapon is in New York. Prepare for war._

And already the responses were coming in, promises to fight and serve alongside him. So many favors traded between Steve and the others over the years. Finally being called in for the good of their home. It was so much more important than the pissing match occurring just a few feet away from him.

Just as the yelling was starting to pick up between Stark and Fury, a text from Cassandra came in. Pulling up the app, he quickly read: _Trojan horse with you now?_

Now, a normal person might dismiss this. They might roll their eyes, be concerned about paranoia and turn their attention back to the bickering in front of them. They would turn off the phone, tuck it away and add their own two cents in. This person would ignore the warnings of a Seer because the spear had sunk its magic into you and you were now unable to resist the urge to fight and bicker that it caused.

Steve was not normal. He had never been normal. He had sacrificed everything, learned all he could from gods and ghosts, and paid the price with knowledge that he could never ignore. Mostly because he was kind of afraid that if he did ignore it his great-grandmother would end him for real. Plus, Steve knew what had happened the last time someone ignored a Seer named Cassandra warning of Trojan Horses. He remembered the stories of Troy, of death and a lost people, and he would not make the same mistakes as the Trojans had.

The reasons you have myth and legend is so you learn from them and do better.

Steve was many thing, but stupid was not one of them. So while he did put his phone away, he did not succumb to the magic of the scepter. He would fight it until his dying breath.

“We need to get rid of the scepter,” Steve announced, cutting through the fighting around him. He turned to face Fury, “It needs to go. Right now.”

Stark scoffed, “What, you want us to throw it out the window?”

“Yes. If that will get it out. It’s poison and we can’t have it here,” Steve turned to Thor, “You must have noticed it, you must have realized that it’s attacking us.” The Asgardian looked confused. “You can feel the magic, right?”

Thor sputtered but didn’t actually give Steve an answer so he just took it as a no. There were bigger fish to fry, “Anyway, we need to get rid of the staff.”

“And I guess you’re the expert on this right?” Stark sneered, “Captain America, leading the way to certain victory?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, mouth tugging into a sneer. “I’m trying to save our lives you ungrateful fu…”

The Helicarrier lurched to the side, sending Steve falling to the ground with Stark on top of him. He swore, forcing himself back to his feet while tugging Stark back onto his feet. Steve could see Fury stumbling back up as Thor pulled himself up, Natasha and Banner missing which could be attributed to the giant hole in the floor. Alarms were blaring around them, filling the air with noise.

“Put on your suit,” Steve ordered pushing Stark towards the hallway, “Thor, help him out.”

“My brother is no doubt behind this,” The thunderer protested, “I should be dealing with him!”

“I’ll deal with Loki,” Steve snapped back eyes flashing in the light.

“My brother…”

“Is expecting you. He is not expecting me,” Steve snagged Thor’s arm, calling on his magic as fighting began further in the Helicarrier, pushing a little bit of will into Thor. “Go. With. Stark.” The god stumbled away, a new awareness in his eyes but Steve didn’t care for that. He didn’t have time to care. There was a threat on the ship and he had to deal with it now before things somehow managed to get worse.

So Steve sprinted through the corridors following the pulse of magic into battle again. His shield was somewhere else in the building, too far away for him to even think of reaching, so all he had was his knives. It was second nature to palm a knife in each hand even as he went skidding into the chamber where Loki had been held…

Only to stumble to a stop when there was no one in the room. The glass cage was empty but there didn’t seem to be any sign of a forced escape. Just...silence.

And the feel of foreign magic hanging heavy in the air, cloying against Steve’s tongue as he just breathed. God of lies. Sorcerer. That was what Loki truly was, and Steve refused to forget that.

So when the air rippled around him and a knife came from nothingness towards his chest? Steve was ready and lashed out to block before lunging forward to strike at the place where the air was starting to shimmer like a heat wave. There was the clang of metal on metal, the feel of a defensive strike traveling up Steve’s arm, but he couldn't see anything. Still, he continued to press forward lashing out again and again at the space, refusing to give even a quarter of an inch for Loki to manoeuvre in Because Steve could not afford to. He was fighting an actual god, a figure from myths who had centuries of experience on him.

Steve was good, he knew that. He had been trained for more than a lifetime beneath the ice by the best warriors his family ever produced but still. He would be no match if Loki managed to get it together. So Steve grit his teeth and continued to fight and fight because each blow managed to break that haze a little bit more until finally with an almighty clang the illusion shattered and Steve was left standing across from a very ruffled looking Loki.

“You’re good,” Loki managed just slightly out of breath, “Very good with those knives.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, settling back on his heels just in case Loki decided to go on the offensive.

“Nothing to say? No come back? You’re rather boring,” Loki sighed, letting his knives disappear into smoke, “I had expected someone more entertaining to come…”

“I wasn’t going to let Thor in here,” Steve snapped.

Loki’s eyes narrowed, “Why ever not?”

“Because I’m smarter than that,” Steve sneered, “So are you done playing around now?”

“So ready to die Captain?”

“We both know that won’t happen. Not here, without the spectacle.” Steve could smell the ash and blood in the air, the factory burning around him as a madman stood across from him. A madman quite like Loki. “I’ve seen men like you before. You always want the great spectacle at the end where you stand over the corpses of your enemies.” Just like the Red Skull had wanted. But Steve had beaten him, and he’d beat Loki too.

“A spectacle. Well, you’re not wrong,” Loki’s smile was a nasty thing as he slowly faded away into smoke, “Tell me Captain, what will you do if you’re home falls to my army?”

The answer was instinctive. “Resist.” You always resist the invaders, the war, the famine and pain. It is in your blood, you do not bow. Like the oak, you do not bend.

Loki’s twisted smile said enough, “Then I look forward to watching your resistance Captain.” Another breath, and Loki was gone.

Steve was alone in the room as the Helicarrier was potentially burning around him. He should keep going, return to the fight and help Stark and Thor with whatever they were doing. Or find Nat and Coulson and work with them to coordinate. That’s what duty said Steve should do.

But there was an even older duty that had him pulling out his cell phone and opening up a new message. It was quick, just a few seconds before Steve sent send and he could run back into the battle on the carrier. A few seconds, a handful of letters, but it was enough to maybe tip the upcoming battle in Steve’s favor so it was worth it. Message sent, Steve put his phone away and ran back into the battle where he was needed.

Far away in New York, in a magical pub, the waiters and cooks phones all went off at the same time. They read the message, paled, but passed it on down the phone line to other magical beings who lived in New York with them. That done, they closed up for the day and began to prepare for what was coming. It could be in minutes, it could be in hours, but war was coming and they would be ready.

How did they know they would need to fight?

Because Steve Rogers had sent: _The invaders are here, prepare for battle. We will resist, we will not lose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the Battle of New York, and I’m like halfway through it. This means it’ll probably go up in two weeks unless I loose WiFi again for the next month.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is 11:40, so it counts as Friday on the West Coast still. The chapter is out on time, oh yeah! Plus, my cousin’s play (which is where I was tonight) was awesome and she rocked it!
> 
> Back to the plot: there is a lot out there on the Battle of New York. I’ve read about it multiple times, I’ve watched Avengers a million times, it’s just constantly shown/talked about. So I chose to do something different to actually get through this chapter. This isn’t about what is happening with the Avengers, this is what the magical creatures in New York are doing during the attack.
> 
> As a heads up, everything else is exactly like the movie. And I didn’t want to repeat the same story again so I focused on something else.

People always talk about the Battle of New York, and when they do, they always speak about the great heroes. They talk about Thor lighting the skies, of Iron Man downing a giant flying whale, of Hawkeye and the Black Widow defending their streets while Captain America guards them and the Hulk smashes. News anchors spend hours analyzing every move, every decision, and honestly could not figure out how more people weren’t killed in the battle. It should have been impossible for six people to hold off an entire army.

And they’re right, it was impossible. The Avengers should never have been able to win this fight but they still did anyways. And those in the know might murmur about it being due to them having an actual descendent of War on their side, but Steve knew better. He was strong, yes, but not that strong.

No, the reason why the Avengers won was because there was a second force fighting with them against the Chitauri. Not an official army, but a force nonetheless. The various magical beings that lived in New York came crawling out of the woodwork to join in the fight and keep their home safe and sound. 

Like the Ancient One in Manhattan, blasting aliens out of the sky with golden lights and powerful spells. She would be well known to the Avengers later on, but the others not so much. The few remaining dryads in New York fought viciously in Central Park while the Hudson was defended by a pod of particularalry vicious sirens who were rather upset with the whole pollution thing happening. Not to mention the lion dogs from China town that came to life to defend their people or the guardian spirits who took to the streets to fight. They had minor powers now of course, weakened by a lack of belief, but they could still do little things like drop a brick or seven on a Chitauri head to confuse them with their people ran for cover. 

The most spectacular defender was Aaira, the djinn. She had lived in New York for years and had a rather successful shawarma shop that was directly in the line of fire for the attacks being located right across the street from Stark Industries. So she strode out, golden fire and burning light, and lit up any bastard that dared get close to her home. She had a husband and a successful business to defend, and she would not fail. Later, people would attribute her displays of fire and light as an explosion caused by Hawkeye’s explosive arrows. People are very good at pretending not to see magic because it makes them uncomfortable to question everything they thought they knew.

Deeper in New York, a certain pub was on lock down. Dorje was settled in holding up the wards, deep in a meditative state as he worked to keep the building from being attacked for burnt down in all the chaos. And it was especially important that he do so, because it was packed with people he’d pulled off the streets to keep safe when the alien portal opened up over New York. Cassandra was there as well, eyes glowing white as vision after vision after vision slammed into her, constantly on her phone and using Dorje’s to text people to warn them of where to hide or when to move and when to stay put. She worried little about the terrified people around her because this was more important. Besides, Abuela was holding court and calming everyone down by telling stories. 

The kids though, were not at the pub. They had been at school when the skies opened up and death came from above. Marius had taken one look at the sky before turning to the twins and calmly telling them “Absolutely not.” The twins, who didn’t even take no as an answer from Steve, grabbed him and dragged him out into the streets of New York where the freaking aliens were despite him screaming at the top of his lungs to go back inside and let him hide damnit. But they refused of course and soon enough the dead Chitauri were rising under his command and attacking their living counterparts while hiding behind a flipped car because he was smart enough to know when to hide, thank you. 

Catarina and Juan were much less sensible. They hadn’t meant to throw themselves into the battle, but did anyway. Magic, ancient and powerful, head built up in the and drove them out into the fray of combat. Their eyes glowed, black with stars in them, as they reached into the power hidden in their blood and brought it exploding out through their fingers and into the world. Energy darker than night appeared around their hands and was thrown from their finger tips, burning the Chitauri to ash as it made contact.

(“I thought you didn’t have magic!” Marius screamed as Juan lit three of the aliens on fire. 

“Oh, we did,” Catarina chirped brightly as she sent a whip of black energy down the street, “We just didn’t know what it was.”

“And the answer was death fire?!”

“Seems like it,” Juan pushed out with both his hands and stared as a portal appeared in the torso of an approaching Chitauri, ripping it in half, “Huh. That’s new.”

“What the fuck even are your powers?!”)

And in the shadows of the city, the Winter Soldier crept. The handlers had sent it out with orders not to be seen and to take out as many aliens as possible. The asset that had once been Maricara could do nothing but comply, and hunted through the dark alleyways slitting the throats of aliens with long knives that no living being could see coming. Nothing could stop a demon, not even an army from another world. 

All of this happened in the background of the televised battle. The unsung heroes of myth and legend who would creep back into the wood work once the whole thing had been handled leaving the Avengers to take the full brunt of public scrutiny on how to respond to an actual alien invasion. People all over the world were watching with bated breath to see what how they would manage to defeat and invading alien army because what else were they supposed to do? People from all walks of life, of all ages and backgrounds, could do nothing but watch in stunned disbelief as six people won against an army that came from the sky. 

Deep in the heart of Romania, a bar was filled to bursting with people from the surrounding village watching the news on TV together. They all had TV in their own homes, but wanted to be together to witness and process what was happening in the United States. In the very back of the bar was a two person table that had been filled since the fight in New York began hours ago. Two men were seated them, one with a mostly finished beer and the other with a drink that hadn’t been touched since they sat down and turned on the news to see what looked like the world ending on tv.

The older man winced as on tv Captain America took a blast to the stomach, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The table creaked in warning under his companion’s hands as they gripped the wood, cracking it. Vlad sighed. “Iacov, be careful of your strength.” 

Iacov, who had been James Barnes in another time, didn’t even turn to look at him. Gold eyes flashed in the hazy light of the pub as Captain America struggled to get back on his feet. “He’s hurt. They fucking shot him.”

“I am aware grandson, but there is nothing we can do from here to help him,” Vlad pointed out.

Iacov watched as Captain America managed to get back on his feet and throw himself back into the fray. “They shot my Stevie, they hurt him and I’m not there,” he turned to his great grandfather for the first time in hours, eyes wide, “Steve’s alive and I’m not there with him.”

“Grandson…”

“How long has he been alive? I couldn’t...I never meant to leave him alone,” Iacov turned back to the screen, “They told me he died in the Arctic and here he is alive and well.”

“It seems that they lied,” Vlad reached out and rested a hand on Iacov’s shoulder, “Don’t worry grandson, we’ll reunite you and your mate soon.” Iacov nodded, eyes tracing over Captain America as he stood victorious in the rubble of New York.

Steve Rogers wasn’t dead. Hydra had lied to him. 

His Steve was alive, and Bucky would be coming back to him as soon as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky will be featuring far more in the next chapter, do not worry about that. He will have a significant role to play there.
> 
> Also, the twins magic is revealed! I based it off of the Hero Twins in Mayan mythology. In several of the texts that I found, they were associated with the underworld/spirit realms through their adventures. So the twins are able to harness spirit energy from the underworld (hence why it’s black because that’s the symbol of death in this universe) and can open portals to the spirit realm. This is not Dr. Strange, they cannot portal anywhere they want. They can only go back and forth between the spirit/underworld and the mortal world.


	8. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead! No sir, my life just got stupid busy because the same day that school started up, I got into a new apartment with teacher assisted housing. I’ve spent the last week packing and unpacking and setting up utilities. 
> 
> Good news though, it’s done and I have officially moved in. It’s been so nice not having to worry about any one else but me and my own mess and not being woken up at three am by her coming back from partying...in case you didn’t notice, I’m quite happy.

This part is really about three different people. Oh, there are other people involved in this, some who are really rather important, but this is about three of them in particular. Two of them are Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because this whole saga has been about them so of course they’ll show up here together. But it isn’t just about them. It’s also about the Winter Soldier, Hydra’s greatest weapon.

So this is all about Bucky, Maricara, and Steve. Three very different people connected together through war and suffering and magic. And in the case of two of them, love. Three very powerful people, thrown together in a world they were never supposed to live long enough to see. Three very different moments on the same day that would impact each other’s lives for years to come. 

Let’s start with the end for once. We’ll start with Bucky Barnes, child of the House of Dracul and husband in all the ways that matter to Steve Rogers. The first Winter Soldier, whole been freed from his bonds and spent his days murdering Hydra agents in revenge with his great grandfather. The same man who was trying to return home to his Stevie as soon as possible. 

Or, he would be if he wasn’t bent over outside of the Henri Coandă International Airport puking up bile. He’d lost his lunch an hour ago, and was now sporadically dry heaving and managing to bring up bile every now and then as he hunched over near the departures terminal just puking. People heading into the airport for their flights kept giving him worried looks but rushed into the airport when Bucky glared at them. 

A cool hand came to press against the back of Bucky’s neck and a wave of magic came swimming through his veins. It was a bright bubbling magic, like pure spring water cleansing the sickness out of Bucky’s system and letting him finally stop being sick. 

“Is he better now?” Vlad’s worried voice demanded as Bucky wiped the vomit from his chin, “The illness is gone?”

“Yes, yes. I fixed him just like I said I would,” a cheerful, femine voice announced. Bucky turned, unsurprised to see Vlad hovering over his shoulder, protective in a way only known to dragons. Seeing Zână standing by Vlad was more surprising. She didn’t often get involved if something wasn’t happening in the woods and the airport was clearly not in the woods. 

“Lady Zână, thank you for your assistance,” Bucky knew his manners well, especially when around magically powerful women. Saoirse had taught him well, the she demon. 

Zână waved a dismissive hand at him, “No need to thank me, I am always glad to break a dark curse when I can.”

Vlad snarled at that, “Someone dared to curse my grandson!”

“Well, not him specifically. But a curse nonetheless,” Zână sighed, “Please tell me you weren’t trying to get to America?”

“I was trying to get to Steve,” because there was a fucking difference. Bucky hadn’t cared about America since they drafted him and took him away from his Stevie. But he’d never stopped loving Steve, even as Hydra tried to erase who he was as a person. 

Zână did not look amused. “Whose in America?”

“...Yes.”

“That’s how you got cursed then,” Zână sighed, “Someone put a travel curse on the entire country of America.”

Vlad swore but Bucky just stared. Because what even was a travel curse? 

“What the hell is a travel curse?”

“A curse that prevents all magical beings from entering a territory or country,” Vlad explained, and Bucky had never seen his great grandfather so worried before. “This is...beyond dark magic. It’s evil, a horrible curse that hasn’t been used since the Dark Ages for good ages.”

Zână glared at him, “No one called it the Dark Ages Except you, Vlad.”

Bucky cut in, well aware the pair of them could argue about historical accuracy for hours. “So, what you’re saying is that some asshole is keeping me from Steve?”

She gave him a sad smile, “I’m afraid so.”

“How do I break the curse then?”

Vlad reached out to touch his shoulder, “Kill the caster.”

Well, that Bucky could do. He was quite good at murdering people to get back to Steve. He’d been doing it since 1943.

So that’s where we’ll leave Bucky for now, trapped in Europe and wanting to get back to Steve as quickly as he could. The beginning of plan to kill the curse caster is being created with Vlad, while Zână returns to the woods. And yes, there are other magical creatures spread across the world trying to figure out how to break the curse to get back to America (there is a very angry dryad whose currently trapped in Canada right now house out for blood), but we aren’t going to worry about those creatures right now because there’s someone else that deserve some attention. 

Namely, let’s look at the person who cast the curse three hours ago that’s keeping Bucky from his Steve. 

Well, rather than the caster, let’s look at someone who was directly tied into the curse but doesn’t need to die in order for it be broken because they’re going to be important later on. This is how Maricara comes into play. 

After the aliens were taken out of the sky, the head of Hydra summoned her back to his side. She paused, staring up at the LaGuardia airport, eyes locked on the flights to Romania, when the summons started to pull at her. It reached down deep into her chest to where her heart sat and squeezed around it. Just like every other day since Hydra created her, she was nothing more than a puppet that danced to their tune. So even though she wanted to run, she physically could not. 

Maricara grit her teeth and turned away from the airport pulling up the facade of Barnes to cover her face and body. She’d appeared before Pierce once with her true face and he’d ordered her to never do that again before ordering her to always look like the first Winter Soldier, Barnes. Apparently, her scarred and bleeding face disturbed him.

Which was fucking great, Maricara thought as she stepped away from the reality and into the gloaming, the inbetween place that separated reality from the spirit world. She wanted Pierce to be disgusted by what Hydra had turned her into. She wanted the Strike Team to cringe away from her when they saw the bleeding cuts on her face from the corner of their eye. Maricara couldn’t do anything against them being bound to Pierce, but she could relish in her fear. It was all she had. 

When she stepped out of the gloaming, Barnes face and metal arm had settled around her body. To those who didn’t know any better, it looked like a very dirty James Barnes just suddenly appeared in front of Pierce’s desk. 

“Ah, Soldier. Excellent work in New York,” she wanted to punch that stupid smile off of Pierce’s face, “Not that you would ever perform suboptimally.”

She just stared at him. She could not talk unless he asked her a direct question. 

“Lucky for us, this fast tracked funding for Project Insight so we should be good to go in a two year period. There’s just one problem,” Pierce turned his computer screen around to show Maricara the images on it. There were several people there, a set of twins using magical fire, a woman summoning golden circles from the top of a building, creatures she’d seen briefly in New York captured by Hydra agents and on display for Hydraks leader to see. 

Pierce’s smile was oily. “There seems to be more magical creatures in New York than we expected. Which shouldn’t be a problem for us since you told us everything you know about how they operate so we can adjust to them.”

Maricara didn’t know anything about the magical creatures in the US. She’d told him what she knew about Romania and that was it. 

(If he wanted her to cooperate, she would need very specific orders. She was a demon and bound to Hydra, but she didn’t want to be part of it.)

“And I can assume there are other creatures around the world that could tamper with this?”

“Yes.” She was guessing. Someone out there had to hate Hydra as much as she did. 

“That’s what I thought. So we’ll need to keep these creatures out of the country until we get things working on Insight,” Pierce reached into his desk and pulled out a bag of things. He tossed them to her. “These are wards that the RnD department created to keep things out. Place one in every single state.”

Maricara glowered, but had to obey. So she nodded and stepped back into the gloaming to ward of the country from the rest of the magical world. And that’s how Bucky Barnes was prevented from coming home. He was locked out by the person who had taken his place as the Fist of Hydra.

Which leaves us with the last of our three people. Steve Rogers. The greatest tactical mind of the 20th century, the new hero in the Battle of New York, and the grandchild of war. When we checked in with him, he was currently spread out in the rubble of New York right after the invasion was prevented. They’d just handed Loki over to SHIELD and Steve had decided that his legs no longer worked and slumped onto the ground.

Clint joined him rather quickly, neither one caring that they were covered in concrete dust as they just wallowed in the wonderful feeling of being done with their job for once. Natasha was standing over them both, looking unamused and immaculate. Steve was half convinced that the dust was too afraid to touch her. 

“And we’re on the ground now. Is this a thing? Secret super spies finish a mission and just lay around in the dirt?” Steve rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt as Stark wandered over to them, Banner trailing behind the billionaire. 

“It’s not,” Natasha answered primly, “Barton and Rogers are just freaks like that.”

“My legs gave up working after we handed Loki over,” Clint announced proudly, “I’ve decided to quit everything and just rent out a building in Red Hook.”

Steve snorted at that before rolling over so he could stare up at Stark. “I’m too hungry to stand,” he managed to say as seriously as he could, “If I stand up in a direction away from food I’ll actually die.”

Stark made a weird face at him for that. Banner (Bruce? Was Steve allowed to call him Bruce?) fidgeted nervously before joining the conversation, “Well. Captain. Is there food in the Tower you could eat?”

Clint made a very rude noise, “It’s weird rich people food. We’re not going to eat that shit.”

“Hey! My food is not shit!”

“I want to eat like...a hundred tacos,” Steve mused to himself, “Or a whole pot of lamb stew.”

“Shawarma sounds good too,” Clint turned and stared across the street at the only open business, “And it’s like ten feet away instead of going all the way back to your bar for food.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Steve pushed himself back to his feet and turned to Natasha, “You coming?”

Natasha smirked at him. “Sure. Just let me get Thor.”

Steve couldn’t keep from making a face even as he dragged Clint onto his feet and started herding the archer over to the restaurant, with Stark and Banner/Bruce following behind them. One quiet. The other firing a million questions a minute. Guess who did what. 

Still, Steve was willing to ignore Stark to get some delicious shawarma as quickly as possible. It seemed like Clint agreed with him, because the archer just kind of collapsed into a chair and stared at the counter with big eyes. 

Steve collapsed into a chair and kicked out the one across from him and waved Banner into the seat. Stark didn’t even bother to ask and just sank into the seat across from Steve, staring down the Captain from behind his sunglasses. “Barton said you run a bar?”

“Irish pub,” Steve corrected absently turning to stare at the counter, “Been working there a couple of years now. You said this place was open?”

Clint honest to god pouted. “It’s Aira’s bar. It would only close if New York sunk into the ocean, and even then she might keep going.”

“Damn straight I keep going! No one will stop my business!” Came the rather gruff call from the back. Steve beamed as Aira came striding into view, hands on her hips as she glared down the rather bedraggled looking group sitting in the concrete lined place. “Steven. Aliens came out of the sky.”

Steve beamed back at her, “Yes they did.”

“You own a restaurant with a decent score on Yelp.”

“I do, and it’s not decent. It’s amazing.”

Aira didn’t budge, “So why are you here!”

“Because it was open and I didn’t have to walk?” Steve made sure to make his eyes big and wet looking as he pouted up at her. He could feel Clint leaning into his side to join the pout as well, “Please? We’re all just so hungry from saving the city today.”

Aira huffed, “Lucky for you, the power is out and there’s food that will go bad. Finish it for me?”

“We’ve got Steve, a Hulk, and an actual god,” Clint sent her a sloppy salute, “We won’t let you down.”

Aira rolled her eyes and turned to start dragging the food out. Stark turned back to Steve as she headed into the back. “You know shawarma lady?”

“We go to the same bingo games,” Steve deadpanned because like hell he was going to let people know that Aira was djinn unless she specifically told them herself. Luckily for Steve, before Stark could start again Natasha came sweeping through the door with Thor on her heels.

Now, Steve still didn’t like Thor. He just felt wrong to him in ways that Steve knew weren’t Thor’s fault but still just bugged him. But the Asgardian had helped them. He’d fought his own brother to protect Steve’s world, had listened to Steve on the battlefield and overall been...decent. 

So even if it went against everything Steve had ever been taught, he still pulled out a chair for Thor and offered him the first round of food. “Thank you. For your help.”

Thor beamed back at him, “It is no problem Friend America.”

“You can call me Steve,” he offered quickly noting the growing glee on Stark’s face, “People who help me fight aliens get to use my first name.”

Thor beamed back at him, and Steve very carefully didn’t look at Clint and Nat’s proud faces. He also very carefully didn’t flinch as Thor reached out to clap his shoulder, “Thank you friend Steven! I appreciate your welcome to earth!”

“...Yeah.” He did not appreciate the look Aira was giving him, so Steve very happily turned to his food instead. And he was quite happy that the others followed his example and talking stopped so they could all just eat now, even with Aira glaring at them from the kitchen.

Later, Steve would have to worry about Hydra again. He’d have to figure out the next steps, because the whole nuke thing was clearly on their order. Steve would spend time working with Clint and Nat to get everything running smoothly.

Later, he’d head back to the pub and get tackled to the ground by Catarina, Juan, and Marius. Abuela would stuff him with tamales as Dorje and Cassandra berated him for being an idiot and fighting aliens. And Steve would smile and laugh and handle it all.

Even later, he’d head to D.C. and break down in front of the WWII memorial and cry for everything he lost before going to see Peggy and making a new friend. But all of that was much further down the line than Steve was comfortable thinking about.

So for right now? He’d just enjoy eating great food with the people who helped him save the world and stop thinking for a while. Cause there wasn’t anything that he had to worry about just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aira is the jinn from last chapter. I figured her owning the shawarma shop would be fun. There’s a whole back story to her that I may get into (I’ve been debating creating an Appendix seeing how I don’t have enough going on right now) along with other creatures. 
> 
> But I brought Bucky back! Sadly, I can’t have him in DC with the other Winter Soldier yet. Two Soldiers running around blowing stuff up and fighting over Steve is just far too much to comprehend. They’ll have a much better meeting later on.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter Soldier part 1 is done! It took forever, but I got it out.
> 
> I have finally moved into my new place, it is fully decorated and it’s working out. Not to mention this is the first weekend where I haven’t had to proctor a test or grade research papers in a while so yay! I decided to take a break and finish this chapter and get a start of the next chapter before my life implodes next week again. The joys of teaching. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I glossed over the scenes that are the same in Winter Soldier just to let you know.

Summer in DC was stupidly humid in Steve’s own personal opinion. There was no good reason for any weather to feel like someone sucker punched you in the guts the second you stepped outdoors. But somehow the humidity here managed to sink down into Steve and made him feel like he was too fucking exhausted to do anything else except lie the shade or hide out in an air conditioned museum or restaurant. 

This of course was the reason why Steve had started running early in the morning, before the humidity got too bad and made him want to die. Plus, there was barely anyone else out there to stare at Captain America as he went running past, which Steve appreciated greatly. He didn’t particularly like having people boring holes into the back of his head as they ogled him running past. (There was only one person allowed to look at Steve like that, and he was dead.) But every now and then, there was someone that Steve met on his run that made waking up stupidly early worth it.

And today was one of those days, leaving Steve cackling like a maniac as he looped the far side of the reflecting pool, struggling to get the laughter under control. He managed it just as he came back in sight of the cute runner guy, managing not to look like a deranged lunatic as he came to a stop in front of him. 

“Need a medic?” Steve teased, putting his hands on his hips as he grinned down at the gasping man on the ground. 

Cute guy snorted. “I need a new set of lungs. Dude, you just ran like 13 miles in 30 minutes!” 

“I guess I got a late start.”

“Oh, really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” Cute guy sarcastically. Steve hadn’t even known that was possible, this was amazing! “Did you just take it? I assumed you just took it.”

Steve laughed, loud and bright. “Nice come back soldier.”

“Soldier, nah man. 58, Pararescue. But now I'm working down at the VA.” He grinned back, “Sam Wilson.”

Steve beamed and reached down to help pull the back up onto his feet, “Steve Rogers.”

“I kind of put that together,” Sam took a long swig from his water bottle, “Gotta admit, you’re not what I expected Captain America to look like.”

If he got a dollar for every time someone said that, he’d be richer than Stark. Steve rolled his eyes, readjusting the floral headband the twins had gotten him for his birthday, “It’s the tattoos, isn’t it? No one expects Captain America to have sick tats.” Especially since the serum didn’t actually let him keep tattoos for longer than a month. So Steve usually made do with sharpies that he used during slow times at the pub to make beautiful designs on his arms.

This weeks art editions came from a bored Cassandra and Dorje, so there was a weird mix of Greco-Roman and Tibetan art covering his arms.

Sam’s eyebrows rose at the sick tats comment. “Well look at that. Using millennial slang. Seems like you’re doing pretty well for yourself here.”

Steve just shrugged, smile twisting to something a bit more wry. All things considered, Sam was right. He had a good job, a good apartment, and great friends. It would have been better though, if he wasn’t missing part of his soul.

(Some nights, Steve woke up reaching for a body that wasn’t there. He’d forget, just for a moment, that Bucky was dead, and break down sobbing all over again. Not every night, but often enough that Marius kept an ear open and would crawl into bed to hold Steve as he broke when this happened.)

“Still open to learning more though. Everyone’s got different opinions on what I need to fit into the 21st century,” Steve admitted, “So what about it? Got any recommendations for me?”

Sam grinned, “Marvin Gaye, 1972, "Trouble Man" soundtrack. Everything you've missed jammed into one album.”

“I'll put it on the list,” Steve promised pulling out his cellphone to add it to the ridiculous list his friends at the restaurant had helped him create. They were already about halfway through classic movies from the 80s, they’d just watched the Gremlins, but he hadn’t gotten around to music yet. A mission alert popped up on his phone right after he hit save, “Alright, Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that's what you wanna call running.” 

Sam was beaming as he reached out to shake hands, “Oh, that's how it is?”

“Oh, that's how it is.”

Sam snorted out a laugh, “Okay. Any time you wanna stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I'll keep it in mind.” Steve promised even as he turned to the street. He waved a bit as a very nice car pulled up the curb to drag him back to work. 

Natasha rolled down the window, “Hey, fellas. Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil.”

“That's hilarious. I haven’t heard that one a million and half times before,” Steve grumbled even as he climbed into the car. He turned back to Sam, “I’ll be sure to swing by the VA sometime soon.”

“Sounds good man. Be safe saving the world and shit.” And with one last wave, they were off, speeding down the road. 

For just a brief moment of time, it was nice and quiet in the car. Until Nat decided to open her mouth and start meddling again. “So. He was cute.”

In the interest of keeping his sanity, Steve decided not to respond to that statement. He’d already spent too much time trying to get Nat to stop setting him up on dates and he refused to put in any more effort on that front. “What’s the mission today?”

“Mission on the Lumerian Star,” Natasha explained speeding through the streets of the DC, “Infiltrating a ship, so we’ll get flown in. I’m personally banking on you not crashing us all into the ocean.”

“I only did that once, and it worked well.” Steve pouted at her, hand coming up to rub against his sternum. For the last couple of days his magic had been acting up there. Not enough to be really concerned about, but persistent enough to feel like heartburn. It was driving him insane.

And of course Natasha noticed this. Nothing escaped her gaze. “Magic still acting up?” It had been a fight to get her to actually believe that magic existed. The whole scorer with an alien army had helped with that though. 

“Probably just upset I’ve been away from the pub for so long. I kind of connected my magic to it pretty tightly,” Steve admitted with a groan.

“So I was just wondering. About the magic restaurant.”

“Yeah?”

“Your in charge of a kid there, right?”

“Marius the necromancer. Sure.”

“Who does he stay with when your in DC on missions?” Natasha demanded, “Or when we’re out dismantling Hydra bases?”

Steve turned to stare at her. “You don’t already know?”

“I’m honestly concerned that you’d eat my face if I looked into your kid.”

“Well, not eat your face. But I’d be pretty pissed.” Steve relaxed back into his seat, “And he stays with Abuela when I’m not in New York.”

“He’s with her right now?”

“Nah, it’s his summer break. He’s in New Orleans visiting his family right now with Clint keeping an eye on him.” Steve shrugged, “I try to get him down there as often as I can, and his mom appreciates it. But it’s not safe for him to live there, especially with Hydra still on the loose.”

“Well, the plan is there will be a little less of Hydra after today’s mission,” Natasha grinned at him, a bloodthirsty promise that he appreciated greatly. Anything that let him get one over on Hydra was a good time in Steve’s book. 

Ten hours later after getting his ass handed to him by Bartoc, losing his temper on Natasha, and finding out from Fury that there were death Helicarriers being prepared to be sent out, Steve was just done. All he wanted was to get absolutely drunk and forget than any of this was happening. But of course the serum prevented him from actually getting drunk no matter how much alcohol he actually downed so that wasn’t a great idea. 

“Maybe I’ll just eat my feelings. That’s productive,” Steve grumbled stomping up the stairs to let himself into the apartment he and Clint split in DC for when they had to run missions. “A whole chocolate cake. I’ll just eat the entire thing.” Not that he actually had a chocolate cake at his place right now, but there were ways of getting one. Steve knew people.

The sound of music came wafting down the hallway as Steve managed to get to his landing. It was faint, a delicate strain that only came from an old record player working deep in an apartment. Steve’s apartment specifically because no one else on this floor had a record player, Nat had checked three months ago to prove a point.

Steve palmed a knife as he slowly approached his apartment door, glad his shield was on his back. It was easy to slide the door open silently and creep into the room following the noise into the living room where Fury sat slumped over in an old armchair in the dark next to the record player crooning out an old love song. 

Something was wrong. Something was really, horribly wrong for Fury to show up here. Steve didn't have to be one of the best tactical minds of the 20th century to realize that. 

“Sir,” Steve stepped further into the room. He didn’t let go of the knife, “I didn’t expect to see you until work tomorrow.” 

“My wife kicked me out.”

Was that a code or something? “Didn’t know you were married.”

“A lot of things you don't about me.” Fury leaned forward, showing Steve a glowing message on his phone about there being ears everywhere. “I'm sorry to have to do this, but I had no place else to crash.” The next message on the phone just said SHIELD compromised. 

That was not good. Or at all. “Who else knows about your wife?”

“Just...my friends.” The crack of gunfire cut through the conversation. Steve could only watch as Fury jerked, bullets slamming into his chest after managing to blast through the wall. 

It was instinct more than anything else that had Steve dropping his knife as he grabbed Fury to drag him into the next room, away from the window. Blood was clinging to Fury’s teeth as he pressed a flash drive into Steve’s hand. “Don’t trust anyone.”

Steve didn’t have time to reassure or promise him anything before Fury passed out. Steve grit his teeth, trapped between pursuing the shooter or staying behind to try and stem the bleeding. 

“Captain Rogers?” Lucky for him, it seemed that help had arrived. Steve looked up from Fury’s form to see Sharon creeping into the apartment, her gun drawn. Natasha’s Friendster SHIELD, their next door neighbor, come to the rescue. 

“Sharon,” Steve breathed out, “Fury’s been hit. Going to need med-vac.”

Sharon nodded, pulling out a radio to coordinate getting medical here as quickly as possible. Steve could distantly hear to tiny voice of the SHIELD operator through the radio but that was starting to fade out. 

The magic was back, growing with his heartbeat. Ancient and powerful, filling his veins so fully it felt like Steve was back in the middle of WWII about to storm a Hydra base, just pumping through his veins. Outside, a crow called out. Unable to resist, Steve turned to look.

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” The operator demanded.

On the roof of the next building, a figure dressed in all black stood unmoving. Just...staring at them with a massive gun clenched in its hand. The crow called again and Steve was up and moving. “Tell him I’m in pursuit.”

The magic practically sang in delight as Steve took off at a run, smashing through the window to chase after the figure who’d turned and ran. The chase took them across rooftops, Steve following on the figures heels while they were circled by a blue eyed crow overhead. Whoever this was, they had to be magical. That was the only explanation about how they could outrun a super soldier without breaking a sweat. 

Still, Steve was magic and a super soldier so it was only a matter of time until he caught up with the shooter. The second they were on the same roof, he grabbed his shield and threw it as hard as he could at the figure.

But he never expected the shooter to turn and around and catch it easily with one hand. Steve froze, mouth hanging open uselessly as he just stared. The shooter’s mouth was covered by some kind of muzzle, but their eyes glowed red in the city lights. Magic was pouring off of the shooter as they threw the shield back at Steve, coating the air. It felt like iron on the tongue, bloody mouths from fights, even as Steve caught his shield and just stood there like an idiot.

Above the blue eyed crow let out a frightened caw at the outpouring of magic, and then...then the crow flinched back away from the shooter like it was afraid. Steve had never seen a Catha crow afraid, not even in the middle of the war. But he got it, he really did. Because Steve wanted to flinch back away from the shooter took because they felt...wrong. Not Asgardian wrong, like something from another world. But like something corrupted and sick. Something unnatural. 

The shooter turned and in a flare of black fire was gone. Leaving Steve on the rooftop with the crow as it swooped in to land next to him. A flutter of wings was Steve’s only warning before Badb Catha was standing beside him on the roof.

For the first time since he left the place between life and death, Steve was standing next to his grandmother. And unlike then, when she’d appeared strong and powerful, now she was beginning to look like a grandmother. Her hair had turned white, and wrinkles were beginning to form around her mouth and eyes. Which was enough to tell Steve something was horribly off even if her expression wasn’t so ridiculously frazzled.

“What the fuck,” Steve breathed, putting his knife and shield away to turn and face Badb head, “What was that.”

Badb stared ahead, eyes horrified, “Something evil. Truly, deeply evil.”

“It almost felt like a demon,” Steve admitted remembering back to the war when demons had been everywhere. But demons hadn’t felt like...everything awful and unnatural in the world. They had felt like pain and suffering and death, horrific sure. But still understandable in the middle of a war, especially one only a decade after the last war.

“That was no demon I’ve ever encountered before,” Badb admitted her eyes worried, “I need to go. Macha or Morrigan might know what that thing was. But be careful with that thing out there Steven.” And then she was gone, leaving Steve standing alone on the rooftop with a million and a half questions brewing in his mind.

The next day he walked into Pierce’s office and lied through his teeth about the shooter that had come for him, feeling the pulse of his magic swirling in his veins again. Steve didn’t flinch or even blink when the STRIKE team turned against him in the elevator, battling his way out without feeling an ounce of regret as his magic hissed that they were monsters, traitors to everything Steve loved, as horrific as the shooter from the night before. It was only soothed by Natasha, the soft croon of a close ally beside him a reprieve before they escaped from Pierce’s clutch and managed to get to the bunker to learn what they were facing. 

(Steve wanted to rip Zola’s throat out with his teeth but couldn’t. He wanted to scream and rage and cry because it wasn’t fair that Hydra had killed his friends and perverted their legacy. It wasn’t fair that they still existed while Bucky didn’t, and that they had a pet monster out there killing people without a trace of regret. Steve was just so fucking angry he didn’t know how to handle it.

Steve couldn’t even think of the young woman who they had murdered for their cause, her name flashing by on a document but burned into Steve’s memory because she was just so fucking young and they killed her anyway.

But at least now he knew why he was alive after the ice. He had sworn in blood and magic and oath to destroy Hydra. He would not be able to rest and join Bucky until every last Hydra agent was dead.)

The best part of the whole being on the run thing had to be when Sam let them both into his home, even though they were singed and smelled like burning cement. Because when Steve got to sit at the kitchen table with Nat and Sam flanking hi I’m, his magic sang. It was the golden horns blaring for a hunt, majestic and powerful and right. A blast that had only come once before from the Commandos soSteve knew this was the right option. Knew he could trust these two with everything as they broke into a military base to get Sam’s wings, or when they kidnapped Sitwell and kind of sort of threw him off a building before scaring the shit out of him in the car. 

Things looked like they would be alright. Steve could feel the rage and fear slowly creeping away since the shooter first showed up, could actually imagine them winning this.

So of course that’s when the Winter Soldier showed up again.

Steve’s magic screamed a warning just as a metal hand wrenched Sitwell from the car and flung him into traffic. The horrible oil slick wrongness had Steve gagging as Nat tried to stop the Soldier only for the three of them to bail out of the car as the Soldier wrenched the steering wheel from the car.

“What the fuck,” Sam hissed, watching as the Soldier crouched before them, stringy hair covering burning brown eyes, “What the fuck is that thing.”

Natasha didn’t reply, firing shot after shot at the Soldier that didn’t even flinch as the bullets slammed into its form. (It didn’t even bleed. What the fuck didn’t bleed when it was hurt?) “A demon,” Steve hissed grabbing his shield and a knife as they Hydra agents came at them with guns blazing. It was so simple for Steve to put himself between Sam and the bullets which worked for a little while. Until they brought out the fucking rocket launcher and Steve was blasted off the overpass of the highway and into a bus on the ground below. 

It hurt. It hurt so much that Steve actually blacked out a little because his ribs were definitely broken and nothing had hurt this much since he’d taken on a panzer by himself back during the war. It took painfully long moments for his ribs to heal back up, to allow Steve to roll back to his feet and stumble out of the broken bus and into the firefight once more. That part was easy. Guided by his magic and with Sam providing cover from above, Steve was able to cut through the Hydra agents without too much trouble. They were well trained, sure. But Steve was war itself and filled with a grudge a hundred years in the making. A normal human, even armed to the teeth, just didn’t stand a chance. 

So the only real threat to Steve was the Winter Soldier itself. The creature had been missing from the fight (Steve would learn later it was due to the monster hunting Nat) but suddenly appeared in front of Steve with a feeling of badwrongwrongwrong and darkness, swinging a serrated blade at Steve’s throat. He somehow managed to twist out of the way, and the battle was on between the grandson of a goddess and an actual monster.

Some battles look like dances. All graceful moves as fighters pair off against each other. This was not one of those battles. This was power and rage and desperation. Neither pulled their punches. Bones cracked under their blows, knives sunk deep into flesh as Steve and Soldier slowly hacked away at each other, their healing factors keeping them going as they continued to battle it out. Steve even managed to lose his shield after it got stuck in a brick wall when the Soldier rolled out the way and he pursued with a snarl. The Soldier twisted back to its feet, just at the right moment for Steve to slam his fist into its jaw, throwing the Soldier back even as the metal mask (muzzle?) shattered. 

The Soldier landed in a heap, spitting shards of metal onto the pavement with a hiss. It pushed itself back up, turning to fix Steve with a blood thirsty glare, red eyes glaring at him over a familiar face. 

“Bucky?” Steve whispered, stuck dumb for a moment. Because that was Bucky’s face, but not his body. It was a little too thin, an inch too short, and Bucky did not have a metal arm. But the face was exactly the same.

That beloved face, the one Steve had missed so much it physically hurt, twisted into an ugly sneer. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

And that was when Steve knew. Because that was Bucky’s face, but not his voice. It was too raspy to be his beloved, because Bucky did not sound like that even after he’d screamed himself hoarse at Steve for the tank incident and damaged his vocal chords. It sounded like a mangled recording of Bucky more than anything else, which coupled with the red eyes was enough for Steve to know. 

(Bucky had golden dragon eyes. Eyes that were positive and adoring, eyes that shone like coveted treasure. They were never the red of congealing blood.)

“Not you demon,” Steve snarled rage surging back through him. How dare it. How fucking dare this demon scum take HIS Bucky’s face and wear it. How far it make a mockery of the man Steve loved more than anything in the world, “So show me your fucking face before I carve your eyes out with my own two hands.”

A twisted smile crossed the demon’s face before its skin...shifted? That’s really the only word close enough to how the skin bubbled and melted to reveal the true face of the creature. A human face, gaunt with bloodily sigils carved into it and long blood matted hair. The face of a young girl, smiling for a second in a photograph but long enough for Steve to see. The girl Hydra had killed. 

“Maricara.” The name fell like a weight from Steve’s tongue. 

And the demon flinched at that. An actual, full body flinch away from Steve full of fear even as the demon bared its teeth in a snarl. 

Steve took a half step forward. “Maricara Munte…”

The demon screamed, high pitched and terrified. The noise sent Steve to his knees as it continued to scream and scream before disappearing in a flash of darkness leaving his dizzy and weak on the pavement.

Huh, Steve mused as the STRIKE team found him and dragged him up off the ground and into a truck, the demon’s scared. It’s afraid because I know it’s name.

A bloody grin crossed Steve’s face at that realization. Because if he knew the name of the demon, he could win.

(Deep under the earth in a bank vault, the creature that had once been Maricara curled up in a ball and wept. Later she would be called out to fight and kill the man with the star that had known her. But for now she could mourn who she had once been back when she was still human. Not even Pierce could take that away from her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a Helicarrier battle next chapter, but it will be between Steve and Maricara not Steve and Bucky. I’m also planning on having the chapter be from Maricara’s POV right now because that seems more fun. 
> 
> And as for the power Steve had over her the end of the chapter? It’s her original name. Name’s have power, and people can control you with a name especially magical creatures (it’s actually part of why middle names were invented. Part of it was a religious reason, the other was to have a secret name when dealing with the fae. Or maybe that’s just a thing for my family?)
> 
> Anyway, Steve knows her actual name so he has power over Maricara. That’s part of why she runs away from him, so he can’t control her. More magical history and world building, yeah!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still here, still alive and working on this. I had to take a long break because my work became...hard and I needed the mental health. A student of mine died, and I had to take time to process and then more time to take care of my kids. Then one of my students was caught drug dealing and another has a eating disorder that had me working with the counselors/vice principals to fix. All in all, the last two months of this semester were hell and it took me a while to be able to write again.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, because while it was difficult to write, I’m glad I did.

Maricara was perched on top of the Triskelion, looking down at all the little mortals going about their daily lives without a care in the world. Each one a tiny speck of humanity that was unaware of the monster craft lurking under their feet that would destroy their pathetic lives. The hellicariers were launching today, and once they were in the sky Hydra would be unstoppable. So Pierce had Maricara waiting to guard them just in case the man with the shield came back.

Rogers will come, Pierce had told her. He won’t stay away, and when he does you will kill him and make sure Hydra will finally conquer the world. Maricara had just stood there, silent, before leaving to keep watch. That had been five hours ago and there was still no sign of Rogers. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would wait before jumping into a fight so she wasn’t sure what to think about how quiet it had been. 

“Attention, all SHIELD agents. This is Steve Rogers.” Maricara rose to her feet as Roger’s voice came echoing from the speakers throughout the building. “You've heard a lot about me over the last few days, some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time you know the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was, it's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control.”

Maricara summoned her swords to her hands, staring down to watch the little humans below stopping in their activity to listen to the Captain. “They shot Nick Fury and it won't end there. If you launch those hellicariers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

It was a good speech. Moving, that she could tell from the agents below turned on Hydra, no hesitation in their actions. Which was why it was so sad because she would have to kill them now for turning on Pierce. How tragic. And it was all thanks to the Captain’s words.

“Steve Rogers,” Maricara breathed out. It felt right to say his name. An acknowledgment of the man who knew her name in return, the only living being to actually know who she used to be. Because Pierce controlled her with the spell burning a hole in her belly, but he did not know what her name had been. She would feel bad about killing Rogers, but she could not disobey the person who controlled her.

So she summoned up the face they forced on her for missions and stepped off the edge of the roof to throw herself into the battle. Because that was all she could do was fight and kill whoever Hydra ordered her to target. Maricara hit the ground hard, cracking the cement beneath her boots just as Rogers and his flying friend came rushing out the building together before taking to the sky to reach the Helicarriers. 

Pierce had ordered her to kill Rogers. But he hadn’t ordered her to kill him quickly, or said anything about his friend. That was why she stepped into the gloaming, reappearing on top of the carrier just in time to rip the wings from the man’s back to ground him. Because she was told to stop him, but not explicitly to kill him. So she did nothing as he deployed his wings except step through the gloaming to get to Rogers.

She appeared inside the helicarrier, staring down the mortal man across from her as he prepared his shield and knife for battle. Blue eyes were glowing in the dim light, she could feel the magic pouring off of him in oppressive waves, demanding she bow to his will and lay down her arms. (Maricara wanted to give up. She wanted to surrender and let this all go but she couldn’t.)

“Show me your true face Maricara,” Rogers voice made her flinch. Small, a slight twitch of her fingers but enough to make him more sure. “I won’t ask again, I refuse to fight you wearing his face!” She shifted, skin rippling to leave her true face staring him down. A dark, cruel smile crossed his face, “Good.” Her eyes narrowed, fingers twitched, and her swords came to her hands. 

And then they were both moving. Blade against blade, with that damn shield smashing through her defenses. No matter how she twisted, how she ducked, he was right there pressing into her space. Rogers knife cut deep adding to the blood smeared into her skin, and his shield broke bone. 

Even when she escaped to the gloaming and dropped down on Rogers from above, he still met her. In fact, he rolled far away that he caught her by the ankle and threw her across the helicarrier. Maricara hit the ground hard, rolling down the walkway until she smashed into the wall. The metal dented from the impact, and if she had been human she would have already been dead.

But Maricara was as far away from human as possible. So she managed to rise back to her feet, broken bones healing under her skin, and watched as Rogers turned his back on her to run towards the terminal in the center of the carrier. Foolish, especially for a soldier. Never turn your back on the enemy.

It was so, so easy to step into the gloaming. Simple to appear behind Rogers and plunge her sword deep into his back as he shoved the microchip into the terminal, twisting the way she’d been taught to cause the most damage to his internal organs. Rogers roar of pain was music to her ears as she stepped back to the walkway, watching blankly as a Rogers fell to the ground, gasping in agony even as he slowly pulled the sword from his back. 

He looked up at her, blood dripping from his mouth, “Why.”

Maricara stared. “You’re my mission.”

“Then why didn't you stop me,” Rogers pushed himself back up to his feet, pulling the sword from his back with a new gush of blood. “The helicarriers will fall, and Hydra will lose. Thanks already done.”

“I wasn’t told to save Hydra,” Maricara admitted because it was true. She could have broken the microchip, destroyed the terminal, anything to secure the win. “I was ordered to kill you.”

Rogers huffed out a breath at that, “You could have already done that too.”

She could have. It was true. A knife to the throat was possible but she hadn’t. “My orders never said to kill you quickly.” Maricara tilted her head, “And you will die with that wound. I’ve already won.”

“Hell, you haven’t won shit,” Rogers stumbled forward, her sword in hand. Blood stained his teeth as he grinned at her, face to face close enough she could see the individual veins in his bloodshot eyes, “I can do this all day.”

Pain. Searing pain. Maricara, for the first time since Hydra turned her, tried to scream in absolute agony. But she couldn’t, not when Rogers had shoved her own sword through her throat bearing down until she was pinned to the walkway, gasping and gurgling on black blood as she writhed in unbearable agony on the ground. 

Rogers pinned her limbs to the ground, one had continuing to keep the sword wedged through her throat as the other pulled out his dagger. “Sorry about this,” Rogers gasped out, digging the knife into her belly, “But the magic is really, really screaming at me to do this.”

And then he plunges his knife deep into her stomach, pulling down as he gutted her. Maricara continued the gurgle, her screams coming out in globs of blood even as she writhed as he cut deeper and deeper into her flesh. Red eyes rolled back in her head as he shoved his hand deep into her gut, shifting through her organs until he wrapped a hand around a hard mass and pulled it slowly from her body.

An age seemed to pass as he slowly pulled his hand from her insides, a stone clenched in his hand. Her eyes opened again, locked on the cursed stone that tied her to Hydra, to Pierce, held in his hand. 

Rogers knew her name. And he held her stone. She was his to command and control.

“Maricara Munteanu,” Rogers gasped out, “You’re free.” And then he crushed the stone in his hand to shards.

Maricara threw her head back and screamed, power slamming back into her from the stone as she exploded in black fire. She didn’t register her swords collapsing into ashes, or that the explosion smashed Rogers through the glass floor and sent him falling into the river below, or how the carrier around her exploded in flames. All she knew was her full powers were finally under her own control.

A demon is made of hate and pain. It is born from blood soaked lands, places where innocents are slaughtered and left to rot. They come from an infection of the soul, the very darkest parts of humanity brought to life and made even more terrible in their rebirth. That is what a demon was. 

And Maricara was born with all of those behind her. Rage and hate and pain and the death of innocence. An abomination created by the worst of humanity and that has power. The power to shake worlds and topple empires and it was all under her control. 

Inside the black fire, she reformed. Diamond hard and sharp, Maricarra rose from the ashes and slid back into the gloaming. She had a debt to repay to the mortal who freed her. Maricara grabbed Rogers, dragging him through the gloaming before reappearing in the middle of the closest hospital, dropping his unconscious and bleeding body onto the screaming receptionist's desk. 

Then she was off again. Back to the gloaming with a new mission (her mission, one she decided because she was finally free) burning in her eyes. 

Maricara stepped back out of the gloaming and into the office building. Specifically, right behind the flying man in the office building. Rumlow, the prick who had delighted in cutting her in the hopes of making her bleed, seemed delighted by her appearance. The flying man, not so much. 

“Soldier,” Rumlow gasped out, a nasty grin on his face, “Get rid of this guy for me, will you?”

Maricara smiled, slow and nasty. She would get rid of the man alright, but not right now. Instead, she darted forward to grab Rumlow by his throat, lifting him off of his feet as she snarled into his stunned face. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time,” Maricara breathed out, squeezing his throat.

“What are you doing?” Rumlow gasped out,hands scrabbling weakly at her wrist in a futile attempt to get her to let go. “You belong to Hydra!”

“Not anymore I don’t.”

“We made you!”

“Yes. You did. There’s just one problem,” Maricara’s eyes blazed, “I never asked to be made. So I’m going to unmake Hydra.” Then she dropped him, sneering down at the gasping mess on the ground. “This is your only warning. Let all of your operatives know that I will come for them, and I will kill them.”

Then she grabbed the gaping flying man and yanked him into the gloaming with her as one of the helicarrier smashed into the side of the building. She dropped him to the ground and in the hospital she’d just left, causing more people to scream (mortals were so loud) and then she was off again.

This time she didn't wait. She simply appeared in front of Pierce, uncaring of the others in the room, and lashed out with a snarl. Her clawed hands ripped into his throat even as the other tore into his chest. He screamed in agony every second as she ripped him to shreds, tearing him limb from limb until the body of the man who had tormented and abused her was scattered in pieces across the room. 

Standing in the middle of the carnage, Pierce’s blood across her face, Maricara smiled for the first time since her death. It was time for her to hunt, time to raze Hydra to the ground until there was nothing left of them. And she’d never been more excited to do that. 

(Across the sea, the great grandson of a dragon snapped up as the wards blocking him from America fell. He was on his feet and running to the airport as a demon reappeared in Europe, swords drawn and hungry for blood. The Winter Soldiers were on the move, and the universe trembled.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why the sword and knife hurt Maricara is because they’re magical. Magical blades hurt magical creatures, and she’s all magic. 
> 
> The stone in her stomach is from how Hydra created her in an earlier story. Everything I’ve learned about demons says you have to have some sort of control on them (usually a summoning circle) or they will kill you and destroying the control sets them free. They usually just straight up kill the person who summoned them, so Maricara is out to kill Hydra because of that. She saved Steve and Sam as a repayment for Steve freeing her.
> 
> The wards/spells keeping Bucky out of the US are gone, because they were created by Pierce even if Maricara set them. So with him dead, Bucky can come back to the US and they can reunite.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing came from a comment I got from an Irish tour guide. He looked me dead in the eyes in Dublin and said “The reason why there’s Irish pubs everywhere is because we’re using them to take over the world.”
> 
> Well, in this universe they are going to be used to save the world! Because this story will go all the way through Infinity Wars, Endgame will be its own thing (I can’t yet, alright?), and it will be amazing.


End file.
